Bones
by Saerry Snape
Summary: A human girl stumbles across two members of the Horde...and everything in her life thereafter changes when she decides to help them.
1. The Girl and the Forsaken

As with _Child of the Horde,_ here is another story involving one of my WoW characters and a few made up ones. And it is very likely that characters here will appear in _CotH_ and characters from it will appear here.

* * *

Birds chirped, a cool breeze rustled the leaves, and all seemed well around Southshore. The Forsaken hadn't stirred out of Tarren Mill in a while so security around the town had been lessened a bit.

Kalya took the opportunity to make her way out into the woods without sneaking out. She'd been sneaking out since she was fifteen and had been dumped in the town by her wandering warrior of a father. He had died trying to take back portions of Hillsbrad, leaving her trapped in the town for the next three years.

She'd been lucky that the innkeeper was a kind man who let her take up room so long as she cleaned up after the customers. The food was horrible though, hence why she snuck out and killed small animals for her own meals after hours. Now she was taking the time to get dinner early.

And just have some time of freedom from the town and all its troubles.

She moved through the woods silently despite her skirt, eyes darting about the underbrush for a target. As she found one and started to draw the slim but sturdy kitchen knife from the slapped together sheath of rabbit skin and sinew, a bellow of pain sent her stumbling forward. She ended up eating grass and dirt and watched angrily as her prey – which had turned out to be a heavy-legged hare – bounded away in fear.

Getting back to her feet, she glanced back towards Southshore – she knew the woods well. They wouldn't have heard that sound; they also unfortunately couldn't hear her scream if she was attacked.

Rightly she should have been scared witless. But all she felt was a calm curiosity for what was in pain.

So, moving as quietly as she could, she headed in the general direction of the noise. When she started hearing Orcish, she knew that she should turn back. But her feet kept moving and then she was standing at the edge of a bloodstained clearing.

The bulk of a Tauren lay amongst crushed and bloodied grass, a wound in his side covered by a blood-soaked cloak. His huge chest heaved and Kalya dropped to her knees with tears in her eyes. He was dying, she could see…and there was no one there for him.

A rustle of leaves behind her warned her and then there was a dagger at her throat, faster than she could rise. Bony fingers dug into her shoulder viciously and she felt the first quiver of fear down in her belly as she realized what held her captive. She gasped involuntarily as the blade pressed close to her throat, causing the Tauren to open his only eye – a dark patch covered the other, she could see – and wheeze out something in the common tongue of the Horde. The bony fingers loosened but the dagger remained at her throat until its owner, a Forsaken as she feared, moved around to crouch in front of her. His glowing eyes seemed to bore into her like the blade in his hands and she wanted very suddenly to run. But her body would not respond at all.

She was shocked to the core when he spoke in a gravelly voice – in nothing less than Common. All she had been told and come to believe was that those who were cursed with the plague forgot their original tongue.

All lies.

"Run home, girl," he said softly. Kalya's gaze was drawn to his mouth, which was nothing but the bones of his face – the skin had drawn back from them and been sewn there. Then she stared into his glowing eyes, seeing nothing of the monster she had been told his kind were. Only loneliness and pain stared out of those eyes, covered by a veneer of mistrust and secrecy.

The quiver of fear she had felt faded as she realized he wasn't going to kill her. And she also realized that there was no scent of decay about him; instead he smelt of the forest, leather, and metal, the scent she might expect off of any woodsman of Southshore.

He rose from his crouch in front of her, his bones creaking, and walked over to kneel next to the wounded Tauren. Gently he laid his hand on the noble head and murmured something in Orcish. The Tauren groaned and replied before closing his sole eye in clear pain.

Kalya found herself on her feet then and walking towards them before she quite knew what she was doing. As she sank down next to the Forsaken, he twitched and stared at her with some modicum of surprise. Slowly she reached out and touched the Tauren's head, brushing the sweaty fur gently. That glowing gaze stayed on her the entire time and she knew if she made one false move, one motion of harm against the injured being, he wouldn't hesitate to slice her throat with the blades at his side.

"What do you need?" she asked in a low voice.

Helping them could get her killed, banished, or worse by her own people. But she couldn't just leave them here and forget.

The Forsaken grunted and replied, "Water, bandages, and herbs." His gaze focused steadily on her and she found it mildly unsettling – but she guessed him getting help from the people that described him as a monster made him feel the same way. Then he nodded at the Tauren and added, "Food for him."

She looked at him and asked, "Nothing for you?"

He blinked then seemed to smile despite the fact that there was no flesh around his lips. She wasn't sure how he did it but he did manage it.

"I need nothing." Then he looked at the Tauren and amended, "Nothing but for you to hurry."

Kalya nodded and rose, looking down at the pair of them, studying them. They were the enemy she had been told about for years, the old enemy that had demolished Lordaeron and the ally of the Orcs. But she couldn't leave the Tauren to die or the Forsaken to watch it – she just didn't have the heart.

Keeping the image of the pair of them in her head, she turned and ran back towards Southshore. She figured out what she would need and how to get it as she went, worrying the whole while. It would take some time and she prayed that the noble injured being would last that long.

She managed to get the supplies quicker than she had anticipated and ran back, the pack she'd piled them into bouncing against her shoulder. As she neared the clearing, she feared bursting into it to find the soldiers of Southshore there. Feared finding the wounded Tauren pierced through the heart with a blade, dead at last. And feared finding the Forsaken who was no monster torn asunder, his bones and dead flesh scattered.

She didn't know why she cared so much about her people's enemies.

She just couldn't bring herself to hate them.

When she saw the bulk of the Tauren still lying there, his chest rising and falling still, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she gasped as she saw the Forsaken pulling the bloodied cloak away from the wound carefully, peering worriedly at it. Despite his expression, stories of cannibalism flashed through her head and she quickly brushed them aside – he'd taken her offer of help so there was no reason for him to eat his…what were they? Old friends? Companions of circumstance?

That didn't matter now, she realized a moment later. Helping them came first.

She stumbled forward noisily then to make sure the Forsaken heard her. He did and looked up, seeming to sigh with relief despite his distinct lack of breathing. As she sank down next to him and began to study the deep wound in the Tauren's side, he said, "I'm surprised you came back."

Kalya blinked at him then dug into her pack, pulling out a mortar and pestle along with a handful of herbs. As she sorted through them and began to crush several into a paste, she asked, "Why?"

"My kind may have our souls back but we are still the ones that helped murder Lordaeron. There aren't many that can forget that."

"It wasn't your fault," she said softly, looking sideways at him. Despite the decay of his body, she could tell he'd been young when he died – probably not that much older than her. How horrible it must have been for him… She couldn't imagine it herself and didn't dare ask him about such a thing.

"They need something to blame," he said in his gravelly voice. "Since they can't reach the ones that tore their world apart, they blame us – the victims."

"That's horrible."

"That's _life_, girl."

She sniffed and leaned forward, smoothing the paste she had made over the Tauren's wound carefully with a small brush she dug out of her back. "My _name_ is Kalya. Not _girl_."

He grunted then said, "He is Kwaaku."

"And you?" she asked, glancing sideways at him.

"Necronim." He then leaned forward so his face was next to hers, the strong scent of leather and metal wafting around her. "What is that?"

She blinked, a bit thrown off by his lack of a true name but decided not to push it, and replied, "You don't know healing remedies?"

"Kwaaku is the healer. I just bind things up and in a month or so it's repaired."

The young woman just nodded at that then she explained, "It's a simple healing paste. I help make it when the guards or travelers come in from a skirmish." Shrugging, she swiped the last bit onto the wound then set the mortar and pestle aside to pull out bandages to bind the wound. "Can you lift him?"

Necronim gave her that lipless smile again and moved to the big Tauren's other side. He wrapped his bony arms around the wide torso and lifted Kwaaku up a fair distance off the ground with a grunt of effort. Kalya quickly pressed a padding made from the rest of the herbs against the wound then bound it up securely and helped lower him back to the forest floor.

"When can he move?"

"Two days," she replied. Then she frowned and asked, "What attacked you?"

Necronim stared at her for a moment then replied, "A paladin who was determined to send my cursed soul to whatever will take me after death. Kwaaku took the strike instead of me."

Kalya frowned at the, wondering what had happened to the paladin. He seemed to sense this and continued, "He's dead. I don't take kindly to anyone harming this one."

There was a protective tinge to his voice and he turned his glowing eyes back on the Tauren. She just watched him for a moment then whispered, "You care about him."

He stiffened and turned his head to look at her.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Unfortunately?" repeated Kalya, confused. "Its no sin to care for someone."

"It is to me."

"Well, he obviously cares for you a lot. Enough to take a blow meant to kill you."

Necronim snorted and said, "Kwaaku is young and idealistic. Days out in the real world with me will eventually teach him truth."

"What truth?" she asked.

"That caring for someone in this world of ours is a foolish gesture."

She bit her lip at that, staring at him with an aching heart. Just what had happened to him to turn him into this bitter creature that crouched next to her? Had it been the Plague alone? Or was it something more?

Had something happened to him before the Plague?

They sat there in silence for a few moments then she dared to ask him a question she'd thrown away as too personal. She would probably never see these two again and, if she did, it would likely be with them dead.

"Is that your real name?"

He shifted, bones creaking, and replied, "It is now."

"Did you forget?" she asked, confused. And she had heard tell that a few of the Forsaken had forgotten whom they were after their souls returned to their bodies.

"Does it matter?"

"I want to know."

"We will be only a memory in days," said Necronim in a slightly cold voice. "Why do you care?"

She frowned then replied, "Because you aren't anything at all like what I've been told about. You're…you're not too different from me."

He laughed at that, a harsh and unamused sound. Then he turned his head towards her and hissed, "I am a far different creature from you, Kalya."

"You don't seem so."

One of his daggers, a slim and curved little thing made from purple and white metal, was at her throat then and she froze. Fear swept through her and she stared at him, locking her eyes with his.

"It would not matter to me a bit to kill you," he spat in an icy tone. "All I need is a twitch of my wrist and your lifeblood would stain this cursed ground. I am _not_ a kind creature, girl."

"You let me live before."

"I needed help."

"And now you're trying to prove a point," she said sternly, the fear fading somewhat.

He stared at her then snapped the dagger away, returning it to its sheath in a fluid motion she wouldn't have expected him capable of. Snorting, he snarled, "Go _home_, girl."

"This place isn't my home anymore than wherever it is you stay."

"What can you know of my home?"

"I know the names of the towns taken by the Plague," Kalya hissed, bringing his gaze back to her. "Before my father dragged me out here so he could find a battle to die in, I was allowed to help those that keep the libraries in Stormwind. I read every book I could get my hands on, including the histories of the Plague."

Necronim stared at her then asked, "Why would you read such a thing?"

"It was a horrible event. Some want to ignore it – I don't." She sighed and finished, "You don't stop something from possibly happening again by just ignoring it."

"You're wiser than your elders then."

"Wiser than anyone my age too."

He grunted then looked at Kwaaku as the Tauren made a noise, the sound that of discomfort. With a bony hand he patted one huge shoulder and said something in what might have been a beautiful tongue if not spoken in his gravelly voice. Despite the harshness spoken with, whatever he had said caused Kwaaku to be still and drift back to sleep.

"What was that?" breathed Kalya, staring between the two of them.

"Taur-ahe," replied Necronim softly. "I know only a few phrases in it…enough that I can speak it in Mulgore if I need to."

"What did you say?"

"Be at peace."

She nodded then stiffened as there was a crash from somewhere behind them, clapping her hand over her mouth to cover a shriek. He was on his feet next to her, fingers grasping his daggers, ready to draw and attack anything that came into the glade. When they both heard the sounds of shouting in Common, they turned horrified gazes on Kwaaku.

"We can't move him," hissed Kalya desperately.

"We have to," replied Necronim sternly. He then looked sharply at her and added, "If you come with us now, its not likely for you to be able to return."

She stared at him, blue-green eyes into glowing yellow, and spat, "Somehow I can't bring myself to care."

He smiled that lipless smile again then gestured for her to take up a spot on one side of the Tauren. With a grunt and a heavy creak of his bones, he got the huge being upright and they each took an arm over their shoulders. As they started forward, Necronim grunted, "It's a good thing he's young and not full-grown."

The thought of the already large Tauren, who was a head taller than the Forsaken and three times her width, getting any bigger made her head spin. Then she thrust the thought aside as there was another crash from behind them and more shouting.

They hobbled into the woods together though where they were going…who knew?


	2. Of Tauren Cities

"Necronim!"

The rogue twitched from his crouch at the edge of Thunder Bluff and turned to regard Kwaaku curiously with his glowing eyes. It had been seven years since the day the Tauren had nearly died and the scar along his side was hidden underneath a heavy leather jerkin.

He had grown in those years, rising to his full adult form and towered over the once human rogue. But he regarded the Forsaken with respect despite how many times he had tried to be rid of him and Necronim had given up three years ago on that.

"What is it?" he rasped.

Kwaaku glanced at him with a look of fear and replied, "Kalya."

That name hadn't been spoken by either of them in years. Necronim had given the girl into the care of a druid he knew, who had taken her to Moonglade where she could perhaps live in some peace. Kwaaku had kept in contact with the human girl over the years and had tried to share things about her with the Forsaken. But he had ignored every word about the girl, trying to forget her entirely.

Being near her, one who didn't fear him, made him hate his existence than he already did.

"What of her?"

"She's been taken," replied Kwaaku. "One of the druids found her home sacked and only a scrap of a letter left hidden under her bed. It said that they had found her and would no doubt take her to Stormwind."

Necronim frowned and said, "To be judged."

"We have to save her!"

"From _Stormwind?!_" Necronim rose from his crouch at the edge of the bluff and glared up at the tall Tauren. "There is no possible way to get her out of the jail there!"

Kwaaku stared at him for a long moment then breathed, "You did, Saran."

Rage suffused what remained of his face and Necronim reached out to grasp at the leather jerkin with a savage snarl.

"You_ dare_ call me that?!"

"Help her," hissed Kwaaku. "_Please_."

"You swore that you would never speak of my past!" growled the Forsaken. "I told you that trusting you to never speak of it, Kwaaku! And now you try to hold it against me to make me do something impossible?"

The Tauren sighed at that, shaking his head.

"You can help her. I know you can! You're just too afraid to admit that despite everything you still can care about something!"

Necronim scowled then snarled something in Gutterspeak, his words harsh enough for the young warrior to take them as curses. But he simply stood there and waited until the rogue's voice faded away and he slumped down to the ground in a heap of leather, bone, and half-there flesh.

Wasted hands clasped behind his neck, the Forsaken's glowing eyes dimmed to nothingness. After a moment he spoke in a low anguished voice that almost made Kwaaku wish that he hadn't asked for such a thing.

But Kalya was his friend. And he sensed that despite Necronim's avoidance of her, he cared for the girl as well.

"What you want me to do…it is sheer madness, Kwaa."

The huge Tauren knelt down by the one person he looked up to – the person that had saved him years ago from a mountain lion and had not objected to his following on travels. Gently he placed a large hand on the thin shoulder and said, "Sometimes we must do even mad things, Nec. You know that."

The glowing eyes flickered back in the wasted face and he rasped, "The Stormwind jail was a fortress nigh inescapable when I was captured there, Kwaa. And I only made my way out of it by a spot of luck by finding a passage I fear long closed."

"An escape which perhaps lead you here for this purpose."

"_Purpose!_" scoffed Necronim, his voice harsh. "Had we not gone to Hillsbrad that day, she would not be in this situation."

"And we both might be dead," said Kwaaku gently. At the Forsaken's glare, he amended, "Dead-er in your case, dear friend."

The glowing eyes glared at him but they had returned to their normal brightness, which gave the Tauren hope. After a moment the rogue snorted and reached to his belt to draw a red bandana from where it had been tucked aside.

"Very well," he said as he tied the bit of cloth over his nose, hiding the extremely rotted part of his face from sight. "We'll go on this suicidal quest of yours."

Kwaaku smiled and squeezed the thin shoulder, saying, "You will not regret this!"

"I regret it already."

Slowly they rose to their feet and the Forsaken lumbered off towards the flight tower in the center of the three bluffs that made up the Tauren city. Those that saw him moved out of his path as if by simply being around him the Plague that had scarred him forever would pass to them. At them the big warrior glared as he followed him, absently fingering the fighting claws that hung at his belt alongside a heavy dagger.

They were his people…but Necronim was the one that had saved him from death. And despite all his gruffness, he knew that there was a good soul within the rogue despite all he had done in his past. For him, Kwaaku would defend him against his own tribe.

Lost in his own thoughts as the Tauren was, Necronim slowly made up way up the ramp within the flight tower. And he remembered that day years ago when Kalya had stumbled upon them, a girl not much older than he had been when he had been thrown into the depths of the Stormwind jail. The sight of her – her auburn hair tied up but rebellious, her warm blue green eyes, the studs in her nose and above her eye, and the sprinkle of freckles on either cheek – had stirred something deep within his wasted chest that he had thought dead.

She had stirred forth his old human wants and he had found himself truly wanting to be next to her. But he wanted not to be the wasted shell that he was…he wanted to be human again.

As he reached the top of the tower, he squelched his desires and that flicker of a human heart. He was Forsaken, a forgotten wretch of humanity who had been nothing worthwhile in life and was even less in this undeath.

For Kwaaku he would rescue the girl.

And then he would leave her again in safety somewhere.

Because around her…he wanted to be something he could never be again.


	3. What Happened in the Deeps

"_Kalya Wist, do you know why you are here?"_

"_Because you all are fools who can't see that some members of the Horde aren't the monsters we imagine?"_

"_You…**guards**! Take her back to her cell! Perhaps another week there will still her tongue."_

Three weeks in the cell beneath Stormwind City had not stilled Kalya's tongue nor her stern will. They wanted her to betray the people that had given her a home when she'd had none.

Her friends.

They had been Horde but they were kinder to her than anyone of her race.

Sighing, she slumped back against the wall and wondered how Kwaaku had reacted to her sudden disappearance. She had gotten to know the Tauren well over the past years and while a druid in Moonglade taught her Taur-ahe, she taught Kwaaku Common through their letters. He was unable to speak the language but his writing…his writing was something she loved seeing.

Especially when it included some tale of adventure he and Necronim had gone on.

Though now there were no letters. Only this dank cell with a bucket for her to use when needed and the occasional bowl of food or water.

Her eyes flew open as footsteps approached her cell, heavy steps that echoed from metal plating. She came to her feet, back still to the wall, as the door opened and stared at the heavy guard that was framed in the entrance.

"What now?" she spat at him. "Shall I be escorted above and questioned again? Or will it be torture this time?"

The guard just stared at her then he jerked and collapsed towards her, making her yelp in shock. Then she saw the leather-clad figure that had been behind him and stared into the glowing eyes in stunned recognition.

"Ne-Necronim?!"

The Forsaken dipped his head in a nod then held out a bony hand towards her as he sheathed the dagger he'd used to knock out the guard. "Come quickly," he rasped from behind the bandana that covered his mouth. "We have little time."

Kalya blinked then staggered forward, her hand shaking as she grasped his. His bones creaked as he enclosed hers with his but his grip remained firm and steady. Gently he led her out of the cell and down the corridors as silently as a young woman and a walking corpse could. Despite his showing bones, Necronim moved almost without noise and she did her best to follow him the same way.

Strangely he led her deeper into the cells, where the stones dripped with water and there was mold scattered in some spots. At the door to one cell, he paused and hissed, "Here." She stopped and watched him curiously as he pulled a ring of keys from a pouch at his side and began to sort through them.

Metal rang on the stones behind them then and she spun, screaming as a sword darted at her. She hadn't any time to think or dodge it.

She was going to die here.

Bony hands grasped her shoulders and hauled her back, whereupon she heard a harsh grunt and felt weight half fall on her. Kalya gasped as she looked up, finding herself huddled against the Forsaken's wasted chest. She pressed her hands against his cold flesh as she saw the tip of the sword thrust through the side of his chest and breathed, "Necronim…"

The rogue grunted, his glowing eyes pained, then staggered forward so the sword slipped from his body. He collapsed to one knee but kept Kalya from hitting the floor hard, managing to let her slip down to it as gently as possible. Then, keeping one arm around her shoulders, he reached for his dagger and turned to regard their attacker.

"Paladin," he rasped, the pain in his voice fading.

The plate-clad man towered over the two of them, his dark hair cropped short and shot through with gray. He slowly wiped the dark gray ichor from his blade on his cloak then smirked as he regarded the rogue.

"Forsaken."

Then he smirked and leaned forward, causing Necronim to pull back from him in…fear. The paladin chuckled and said, "You've been here before, rogue."

"What?" gasped Kalya, looking between the two in confusion.

"The brand he tries vainly to hide there on his arm," replied the man. "Something I'm afraid you'll have administered yourself after we take care of this wretch."

"You won't touch her!" snarled the rogue venomously. He ripped one of his daggers loose of its sheath, the motion causing the brand usually hidden under a scrap of cloth to become visible. The paladin drew up his blade in a protective stance and took a step back – but his eyes unwaveringly fell on the brand. His frosty blue eyes then stared hard into glowing yellow and he hissed, "Saran Tathdyl. So you _did_ survive."

Necronim shuddered then rose into a crouch, pushing Kalya to her feet and behind him, snarling, "That name and the man attached to it died amongst the Scourge."

The paladin smiled – a cold, sinister motion – and shifted into a stance more suitable for attack. "Then," he said slowly, "I suppose this no name Forsaken will have to die swiftly."

"No!" screamed Kalya, trying to lunge forward at her fellow human. But Necronim rose to his full height, forcing his bent spine to straighten, and threw his shoulder in her path. He drew his other dagger and glared at the paladin, now nearly at the same height as him.

"Stay back," he hissed at her. "He would kill you."

"But…he's a paladin!"

Necronim turned his head to look at her with one glowing orb and said, "And you are a woman who has willingly gone with two members of the Horde. In his eyes, you're almost as much of a wretch as me."

The paladin smirked and shrugged, saying, "He speaks true." Then he let loose a shout and lunged forward, his sword darting towards the Forsaken's shoulder. Kalya screamed and the rogue lunged forward, catching the blade between his daggers and flinging it aside. But he didn't see the gauntleted fist coming at him until it was too late to dodge it and it crashed against his shoulder.

A moment later Necronim screamed as the power of the Light poured into him, searing his undead flesh and bone. Writhing, he lashed out with his daggers in a half-blind fashion towards the paladin's face. One caught at the pale cheek and blood spattered along the wall but the human kept his grip, grinning madly at the Forsaken.

This wasn't the first time he had felt such pain. Few paladins' he had met since he had been taken by the Plague knew how to truly harm his kind. But a few…a few did know the means to do so. He had run from the other paladin that had tried to kill him like this.

The Light was searing everything within him, making him want to just give up and let it consume him. Let it end this accursed existence of his.

Then he heard Kalya scream his name – the one he had taken, not his true one - and his eyes flared with a sudden fury.

"_I will not die here!_" he howled. His arm blurred as he moved and smashed the hilt of his dagger against the paladin's waist, breaking the chain mail there to bits. Then he swiftly shifted his grip and buried his blade up to the hilt in the human's side. With the strike the man's concentration faltered and the Light searing his wasted flesh ceased.

Necronim stumbled backwards in reaction, plunging a hand into a pouch at his hip as the paladin angrily lunged at him. He then flung a handful of powder into his eyes and spun around to Kalya as the man was blinded.

"Go!" he gasped through the pain consuming him. "_Go!_"

She stared at him then plunged into the cell he had opened earlier, tugging the door shut behind them as he limped inside. He swiftly crossed to the dark opening near the floor where he had entered and dropped down next to it. Kalya fell next to him and her eyes were on his shoulder, drawing his eyes there involuntarily.

His leather shoulder guard and part of his chest piece had been burnt away. Underneath it his pale flesh was blackened and scored away in places, revealing more bone than it had before. He gently touched the spot then winced as it sent pain searing through nerves anyone that was a fool would say were dead. But his body still felt pain no matter how dead it was.

"We have to treat that," she hissed.

"Later," he grunted, grasping her shoulder. "Kwaaku is waiting for us outside with mounts for us to flee on."

"But…"

"My wound can wait until we are safe!" snapped Necronim. "Now go!"

Kalya bit her lip then nodded, moved into the dark opening slowly. He gave her a bit of a lead and listened to the paladin's curses outside the cell for a moment before he followed.

By the time they reached the outside and he started to lead her to where the Tauren waited, his shoulder and chest had begun to burn as if on fire. But he stalwartly ignored the pain and led her onward until they reached the meeting spot. Kalya ran ahead of him and threw her arms around Kwaaku, who gently returned the hug then stared at him.

"Nec…"

"We have to go," croaked the rogue, his pain drifting into his voice. "A paladin found us in the depths and nearly had us both. If we don't flee now, we may be caught."

Kwaaku nodded and picked up the human, tossing her across the back of one of their wolf mounts. Then he moved and helped the Forsaken up onto his own wolf despite the rogue's protests that he could do it on his own. As the Tauren swung up onto his own wolf's back, there was the sound of a horn from Stormwind behind them.

Kalya's eyes widened with fear and Necronim snarled, "_Go!_"

The three wolf's leapt forward almost at once, Kwaaku starting his off first. Kalya's mount followed his as they were pack mates and Necronim urged his wolf to follow them swiftly. As the wind struck his shoulder, he nearly swooned in pain but managed to hang on to consciousness by sheer will.

It wasn't often that he could be driven to such a state. Sleep was useless to him as he was so making him go unconscious was a great task.

Such an attack as he had suffered was just what would do such a thing.

He sucked in a breath he didn't need and clung to the wolf's back, fighting to keep himself upright. But bit-by-bit he failed and he heard Kalya cry out as he slipped sideways in the saddle.

He felt Kwaaku's large hand close around his arm just before everything went dark and knew that the Tauren would keep him and the girl safe.


	4. Tend the Wounded

"Will he be okay?"

Kwaaku looked at Kalya as he crouched next to Necronim's still form and softly said in his native tongue, "He's been struck by this before, I know. And if anyone can recover, he can."

She bit her lip and stared down at the Forsaken, who was lying between them on the ground. His wasted chest heaved for breath he didn't need and his glowing eyes were dark, which worried her immensely. But Kwaaku had told her that only meant his eyes were closed, which made sense since his glowing eyes had no lids. Still…his already pale flesh seemed to be growing paler by the second as the Tauren mixed together something in a bowl he'd pulled from within a belt pouch.

"I can only hope this will help," rumbled the big being. He then leaned down and carefully applied the paste he had made to the burnt flesh on the Forsaken's shoulder. Necronim groaned at the contact and his head fell to the side as he tried to pull away. But Kwaaku placed a heavy hand on his chest to hold him down and Kalya found herself leaning over her injured savior.

Absently she began to run her fingers through his dark hair, which she found with some shock to be as soft as a raven feather she'd found once. He whimpered then and leaned into her touch, a dim glow suddenly appearing at the back of his dark eye sockets.

"K-Kalya?"

"Shh," she bid him earnestly, not feeling the least bit disgusted as she ran her fingers through his hair again. His wasted flesh was cold but it was not rotting away despite his appearance. "Rest. We have you."

He stared at her for a moment then the dim glow of his eyes guttered and faded again. Kalya clasped his head in her hands, gently stroking his pallid cheek, and looked at the ragged wound the paladin had left. Kwaaku's paste covered some of the worse bits of it but she could still see the whole of the wound in her mind.

And the paladin's face as he had caused it…she was disgusted to know that they were of the same race.

"We cannot stay here long," rumbled the Tauren as he drew out a swath of bandages and began to wind them about the Forsaken's shoulder and chest as he lifted him with one arm. He had rid the rogue of most of his gear, leaving on only everything below his waist so he could have access to the wound. Kalya held his head as Kwaaku wound the bandages, keeping Necronim's skull from rolling from side to side during the task. As they both gently laid him back on the ground, she looked across the river that they rested beside.

They weren't really that far from Stormwind, having stopped just at the edge of Duskwood to tend to the rogue's wounds. Hopefully no one would come looking for them this far but…

Kwaaku snorted and said, "A few hours more of safety is all we can hope for. Then we must go."

"Go where?" asked Kalya, gesturing around. "There is nowhere safe here!"

"We will continue the way he planned. Follow the river until we make our way into Stranglethorn and take the zeppelin there to Orgrimmar."

The name of the orc capital – the capital of the Horde itself if she had heard correctly – rang in her mind and she gasped, "But…I…"

Kwaaku reached out and cupped her shoulder in a huge hand, making her aware of how truly big he had grown. He towered above her, a mass of solid muscle clothed in simple leather despite him telling her he was a warrior, and she knew that he could easily kill her. But he would never do such a thing to her.

"We will protect you," he intoned warmly, staring into her eyes with his sole one. "And until he is well, I will protect you both. While I stand I swear that nothing will happen to you or him."

And Kalya knew without a doubt that his words were ones he would hold by.

She laid one of her hands over his and breathed, "I trust you, Kwaaku."

"Kwaa," he said, dipping his head slightly. "You need only call me that, Kalya."

She smiled at him and said, "Okay." Then she bit her lip and looked towards the opposite shore of Elwynn Forest. "I think I hate them."

"One cannot agree with everyone amongst one's race. There are honorable humans still, Kalya. I have met them and even they have let Nec pass them in peace."

"Its not them I hate," she breathed. Looking down at Necronim, she continued, "I hate…I hate _him_ most. That paladin. That…" She suddenly remembered what the man had spoken of and found her hand drifting down to the brand on the rogue's wrist. It was an old wound, made long before he'd fallen to the Plague, and was a stylized and unique pattern that obviously told a story of its own. She had seen rumors of such brands amongst the books in the library, finding a few that were marked down and had their explanations.

This one…this one told just who this man had been and what he had done to deserve it.

"What did he do?" she gasped, asking the unconscious rogue as much as the Tauren. "Kwaa, what did he do to deserve this brand?"

Kwaaku looked at her sadly and shook his horned head slowly.

"That is _his_ story to tell, not mine, Kalya."

"But you know it. You know who he _was_. This…" She tried to recall the name the paladin had said. "…Saran."

The big being twitched and he gasped, "Wait…this paladin. He knew him? By name?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Kalya…the only one that could know him by that name would be one that knew that brand. That means that man was one of the one's who helped to put that mark on him."

She bowed her head then, running her fingers through Necronim's hair. Then she glanced at that brand again before looking up at Kwaaku, who was watching her with a solemn gaze. After a moment she hissed, "He didn't recognize him."

"Nec avoids his past as though it were the Plague that robbed him of life," said Kwaaku. "I'm not sure he even remembers a great deal of it."

Kalya frowned then blinked as the Tauren suddenly twitched. She then heard the sound of a horn from a great distance – the same horn that had sounded when they escaped Stormwind.

"We must go."

"But he…"

"If we do not go now, none of us will live!" exclaimed Kwaaku. He then thrust his arms under Necronim, lifting the rogue as quickly and gently as he could. As he went towards one of the mounts, Kalya quickly said, "Wait, put him on my mount. Let the other wolf loose."

"Kalya…"

"We can't tie him to the saddle," she hissed, "he's too injured. Lash his arms around me."

Kwaaku stared at her for a moment then nodded and she rushed towards her wolf mount. The big beast panted happily at her appearance and she stroked its great head before swinging up onto its back. Gently Necronim was sat down behind her and Kwaaku carefully lashed the rogue into place, tying his legs to the saddle and gently lashing his arms around her waist. He looked at the pair of them for a moment then murmured a prayer to the Earth Mother before going to his own mount.

The horn sounded again, closer still, and Kalya bit her lip as she glanced over her shoulder. Necronim's head leaned against her back, his dark sockets flickering for a moment at the sound of the horn. He shifted for a moment at the noise with a low groan and hissed, "Run…must run…"

She laid one of her hands over his where they were tied in front of her and breathed, "I won't let you go back to that. Just like I know you wouldn't let me."

"Kalya, come!"

Kwaaku urged his mount forward and she rushed after him, wincing as Necronim's body bounced painfully behind her. This run could not be good on the Forsaken's wound but…it was necessary.

She glanced behind her as she heard the horn again and heard the rogue gasp, "Run…run! Won't…go back…rather…die."

"Oh, Necronim," she breathed even as she urged the wolf to greater speed. "What happened to you?"

There was no answer as he had lost complete consciousness again and she steeled herself for a hard ride. And as she rode, she whispered a prayer to the Light – not the hateful Light the paladin had wielded, but that had healed – and one to Kwaaku's Earth Mother that everything would be all right.


	5. The Sleeper Awakes

Consciousness came back slowly to Necronim and his eyes slowly fluttered open. At least that's what it felt like – what actually happened was a soft light flickering to life in the back of his empty eye sockets before becoming a steady, if dim, glow. He grunted as he found the leafy trees and blue skies of Stranglethorn Vale above him then lifted his head slightly to look around.

A small fire had once burned next to him but with the sun up it had been long ago put out. Two pallets similar to the one he lay on were in the sand next to it and he saw a pile of weapons and gear left next to them. A giggle made him glance towards the shoreline and he saw Kwaaku and Kalya there, the big Tauren showing the human girl – no, it was young woman now, not the girl of years ago – how to catch fish from the river. As he watched, she attempted to copy the big being next to her but ended up floundering in the water.

He couldn't help but chuckle as she came up laughing and brought the attention of them both to his person. Kwaaku's single eye brightened and then Kalya's blue green eyes met his as a beautiful smile lit up her face.

By the Light, how he wished he wasn't what he was…

"Necronim!" she cried, rushing up out of the water. Sand flew up as she ran to his side and fell next to him, still beaming as brightly as the sun above them. "You're awake!"

The rogue grunted and eased himself up on his uninjured arm, still feeling the ache in the other. He smiled at her and rasped, "It will take a great deal more than a paladin to take me down."

Kwaaku rumbled a hearty chuckle and said, "I would dare say so! Though you have been unconscious for nearly five days, Nec."

"Five days? Why didn't you try and wake me?"

"You needed to recover," replied the Tauren as he sank down in the sand behind Kalya. As the Forsaken started to say something, he swiftly continued, "And while I know you've suffered an injury such as this before, I'm not sure you know how lucky you were. You might have lost that arm if he had been allowed a moment longer to hold on. And your chest on that side took a damnable beating."

"How much?" asked Necronim, not wanting to look. He'd seen enough of his decayed body for an eternity.

Kwaaku winced and replied, "I could see your heart. It's grown over a bit since then but not too much."

"I'm still amazed that you can regenerate," gasped Kalya. "I mean…it's not something one would think you could do."

"Most just see me as a corpse," said the rogue sternly. "Which I am. But there are certain…benefits…from being what I am. During my time as Scourge, my body decayed to what it is now. But…when I came back to myself…" He clenched a bony fist, staring at it with suddenly brightening eyes. "…all of that ceased. With my soul back in place, everything stopped decaying, just the same with all of the other Forsaken. And when we're injured and allowed to live, our bodies return to their previous state. No one knows why and most of us aren't inclined to ask."

"Don't you want to know?" she asked.

"The only thing I would ever care to know is a way to return to what I once was. But that's a dream I fear I'll never see."

Sighing, the rogue collapsed back down onto his pallet, feeling his shoulder and chest ache underneath the swath of bandages. He closed his eyes then asked, "How far away from Grom'gol are we, Kwaa?"

The Tauren frowned then turned his head towards the sky, sniffing slightly. Then he peered at the shoreline beyond them and replied, "Mmm…two or three days perhaps. I was planning to pack up camp tomorrow at daybreak."

"Sounds like a plan," said Necronim wearily. He then opened his eyes and chuckled darkly, saying, "Funny…it takes a paladin assaulting me for what I am that makes me feel the weariness of humanity again. Heh."

His eyes fluttered out again then, like candles with their flames blown away, and Kalya pressed a fist to her mouth to fight back a sob. After a moment she staggered to her feet and fled back down to the water where she sank down into the warmth of it. She thrust her hands down underneath it and gripped the sand as she fought down a strangled cry.

As she heard Kwaaku settle down in the edge of the surf next to her, she hissed, "What did he do to deserve this existence, Kwaaku? What did any of them do?!"

"Nothing," replied the Tauren solemnly. "They were all innocents put to use by another power. Such things happen, Kalya. All beings in this world have been used by another at some point in history." Slowly he looked over his shoulder at the Forsaken he had looked up to for years and sighed. "Pain makes him speak things he would not normally. Please…for his sake, Kalya, do not speak of them later."

"But…"

"Kalya…" Kwaaku laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and she choked down another sob as she flung her hand atop it.

"I won't," she gasped. "I swear I won't."

The pair of them fell silent then and sat there in the surf until the sun began to set, Kwaaku never moving from Kalya's side. When she finally rose on shaky legs and started towards the fire, she discovered it had been started and stirred to life. Necronim, pain etching his wasted face, sat next to the flame, the stark white of his bandages standing out starkly against his faintly blue skin. His eyes caught hers as she stared at him then he rasped, "Come sit by the fire, you foolish girl. What do you think you're doing sitting down there in the water for hours?"

She just stared at him then sank down directly across from him, staring over the flames at his sickly visage, then breathed, "Necronim…"

His gaze, his glowing eyes miniscule points at the back of his eye sockets, lifted to meet hers and she finished, "Thank you. For…for rescuing me."

The rogue grunted and replied, "You're welcome. Now here…" He picked up something lying next to him and threw it at her with his good arm. As she caught it, she discovered it to be the remains of his leather tunic only roughly fashioned into something smaller. "Change into that and wrap one of those blankets around your waist. Staying in those wet clothes is only going to get you sick."

Kalya stared at him then muttered something before taking the scrap of cloth and a blanket and disappearing into the nearby foliage. The Tauren settled down next to the fire himself, wearing only his pants, and smiled at the Forsaken.

"That was a good thing you did. But you should be resting."

Necronim snorted at that and replied snippily, "I can rest well enough when I die a second death, Kwaa. Trust me when I say that I think I've slept enough."

Kwaaku stared at him for a moment then leaned forward, his voice a mere whisper when he spoke again.

"You dreamt again."

The rogue clenched his jaw at that and bowed his head, hair falling to cover his wasted face. He didn't need sleep technically but sometimes he did doze and then was when his mind tried to make him remember what he'd done.

"Of then…the Scourge."

"Nec…"

"If there is one thing I fear, Kwaa, it is that. It is that senseless life with nothing but hunger and the orders pulsing in my head. Orders to kill everything that falters into my path. That is what I fear."

Kwaaku just looked at his friend for a long moment then glanced up at Kalya as she returned and threw her wet clothes over the limb of a downed tree nearby. As she came back and settled down on her pallet, he knew by the look in her eyes that she had heard what Necronim had just spoken of. And the Forsaken likely knew that she'd heard as well.

Despite the young woman's return, Necronim continued to speak.

"I feel a sense of unease in the land, Kwaa. Almost…almost like then."

The Tauren frowned and said, "Only almost?"

"Yes," he replied. "But…where we are is a long way from Tirisfal or any of the plagued lands. There could be something there."

"Nec, you hate going there!"

"I know. But this feeling, Kwaa!" The Forsaken clenched his fists then winced, cradling his injured arm to his chest abruptly. "Something is happening…"

Kalya found her voice then and breathed, "You don't think…the Lich King?"

Necronim stiffened at the name then shook his head, saying, "No. No, I think if it were the Lich King we would know it. The entire world would be in an uproar and the Undercity would be his first target. This is something else."

"I won't allow you to go there," said Kwaaku gruffly, his expression stern. "Not now in the state you're in."

"Who are you to order me around?!"

"I am your _friend_!" bellowed the Tauren in response. As Necronim backed down, the glow of his eyes abruptly brighter, Kwaaku sighed. "At least…I have hoped I am."

"Kwaa, if there were anyone I could call a friend in this world still, it would be you."

"Thank you. And I beg you, Nec, wait. Wait until you are fully healed until you go and see if there is anything wrong."

The Forsaken frowned then nodded slowly, saying, "Very well."

"And I come with you when you do," he added.

"No!" Necronim staggered to his feet then despite protests from Kwaaku and Kalya and began to pace. Pain suffused his wasted frame but he was restless and needed the movement to think. "What…what if it's the new Plague, Kwaa?"

"I'll risk that."

"_NO!_" bellowed the rogue, swinging around towards the Tauren. He stumbled and fell to one knee but snarled as both of the others tried to come help him. "I'm fine, dammit!"

"Necronim, sit down, please!" begged Kalya, clutching her hands to her chest to keep herself from tugging him back down.

"Not until I finish this!"

"No!" she screamed, rising to her own feet. He stared at her and she stomped right up to him, glaring at him from her height just at his upper chest. "You are injured and need rest to recover, no matter how quickly you regenerate! I don't care what you think might be happening or what you don't want happening whenever you go look into it. What I care about is the _present_ and here in that time you need to recover more than anything!"

He continued to stare at her for a moment, blinking a few times, then a low chuckle rose from his wasted chest. Nodding slowly, he rasped, "M'lady has the right of things."

Kalya blushed at the name then nodded smartly as she planted her hands on her hips. "Damn right, I do!"

Necronim smiled in his strange way then looked at Kwaaku, saying, "Forgive me, Kwaa. But…"

"I know," said the Tauren warmly as a chuckle rumbled from his huge chest. "You worry about me. As I do you. And as does Kalya there."

The rogue nodded and looked between the pair of them, shaking his head. Then he slowly sank down into the sand and a relieved Kalya fell there next to him with a smile on her face.

"I'll rest," he assured the both of them. "I swear it. But the moment I am well, if I still feel this unease…"

"You'll go," said the human next to him. He looked at her as she continued, "And we will wait for you to come back and tell us all is safe."

Kwaaku looked like he was about to protest but ceased that when he saw the relieved look on Necronim's face. If waiting for word from his friend would stop his worry, he would abide by that.

"Very well," he rumbled. "Now here, Kalya. Eat that and then I think sleep is a fine idea. We should get moving early."

She nodded and took the piece of bread he handed her and smiled at Necronim, gently touching his arm before she rose and went to her own pallet. As she settled down, the Forsaken's glowing eyes remained on her and Kwaaku turned his head away as he saw the intense longing in his friend's wasted face. He knew better than anyone that to have his humanity back – even if he had been an outlaw – was what Necronim wanted most.

And if he but could, the Tauren would give him that.


	6. What The Heart Wants

**Chapter 6**

"There!" rasped Necronim. "I see Grom'gol ahead of us."

Kalya stiffened at that news, seeing the wooden walls of the Horde town looming ahead as well. The wasted arm that gripped her waist tightened briefly and he breathed, "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

His words let her loosen up a little but she just stiffened again as they passed the two guards and came into the center of the town. Underneath the hood of the half-cloak Necronim had fashioned, she bit her lip and prayed no one looked at her too closely. If anything, she could be passed off as a Blood Elf so long as she kept the hood up and no one peered to close to see she didn't have their eyes.

Sliding down from the back of the wolf, she turned and silently helped Necronim down, trying to ignore the stares that got from those standing nearby. He grunted in thanks as he settled on the ground and hugged his injured arm to his chest as he glared at those staring. They quickly turned away and he snarled something under his breath in Gutterspeak that couldn't have been nice at all.

Kwaaku led their mounts away, probably taking them to where they would get some use by someone else, and Necronim gently gripped her arm by the elbow. He led her towards a tall tower, wincing every few steps, and didn't let go until they were both inside. There he settled on a crate with a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall. The glow of his eyes flickered then and Kalya crouched down next to him with a frown.

"Are you alright?"

His eyes blinked back open and Necronim smiled at her, slowly nodding his head.

"I'm fine," he rasped. "Just weary."

"Still uneasy?" she asked curiously.

He frowned at that and glanced out the open doorway at the sky – or somewhere beyond it. Then he replied, "A bit more so now. Something is terribly wrong."

Kalya bit her lip then looked up as a tall shadow loomed over them as Kwaaku returned with a rustle of leather and the clatter of his fighting claws against his belt. Necronim cocked his head at the Tauren, who snorted and said, "Zeppelin'll be here in a few hours. Or so the goblins said."

"Damn," growled the Forsaken. "I had hoped it would be here when we arrived."

"No such luck it seems. Come, lets move back under the ramp."

"But…" began Kalya, about to protest that moving again couldn't be good for Necronim but he was already on his feet and moving. She realized then that where they were going would be hidden from prying eyes and she wouldn't be so likely to be noticed.

A string of harsh Gutterspeak caused her to dart to Necronim's side and help him ease down to the floor. She flung down the pack she'd carried and pulled out part of one of their pallets, spreading it out on the floor. He grumbled something but lay down like she wanted as Kwaaku settled his bulk down to where he blocked any view but the most inquisitive of them.

With swift and nimble fingers, Kalya carefully took off the rogue's bindings, wincing as a grayish liquid spurted from his still showing insides across her pants. He saw this as well and turned his face away from her with a heavy grunt. She bit her lip but didn't say anything, only used the bandages to wipe most of it away and tossed them aside.

In silence she carefully cleaned the edges of the healing wound, ignoring the gray stains on her fingers and the frighteningly still mass of muscle within his chest that was his heart. She then smeared what was left of Kwaaku's healing paste along the wound and pulled fresh bandages from her pack.

Necronim silently sat up and lifted his arm with a wince so she could wind the bandages around his torso. He kept his face stalwartly turned away from her with his eyes shut tight…and not only because he didn't want to see his rotted insides spill out again.

Every touch of her fingers against his wasted flesh made him want to break down and weep. She was so warm and gentle, even now when she stood on the fringes of knowing about his misbegotten past. And he didn't want her to see the longing on his face.

He didn't want to scare her away, no matter what. Because she was the first human that hadn't looked at him like a monster or immediately tried to kill him. She didn't hate him and didn't flinch at the touch of his bony fingers…and that was why he had tried to avoid every thought of her.

He was used to hate. But…this sense of equality he had with her…

This…gentle care…

All of it made his rotted heart ache and he almost wished he had never met her.

_Almost._

"There," she said finally, drawing him out of his thoughts. Slowly he turned to look at her and she smiled at him before continuing, "I think those will last until you're fully healed. Which it doesn't look like will be too long a time since the space over your ribs is already closed up in one small spot."

"Good to know," he managed to rasp out. "The sooner I figure out what this uneasy feeling is, the better."

Kwaaku snorted but remained silent and Kalya only gave him a gentle smile. Necronim nodded absently to himself and leaned back against a crate to wait, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. And when the zeppelin finally arrived hours later, he stiffened as she absently mentioned his watching as she helped him to his feet.

Then she smiled sadly and walked away before he could attempt any explanation. Kwaaku looked down at him with a shake of his head and the Forsaken felt more confused than he ever had before.

"What…what just happened?"

"Nec, you know you don't hide so much of yourself when you're in pain," rumbled the Tauren softly. "She sees you and what you feel. And she's not going to press it because she knows nothing can ever happen."

Necronim flinched as though struck at the words and hung his head.

"I can't help it, Kwaa. Light help me, for all my faults and all I did, I have always been a romantic fool. And she…she doesn't see me as a monster."

"Which makes that heart you thought you had lost smart a bit."

"Something like that," came the grumbled response. The Forsaken then shook himself and said, "Well, let's go before the zeppelin leaves without us."

Kwaaku just nodded and followed him up the ramp in silence, wondering if he should have just let matters be. If he had not pulled Necronim into this, he wouldn't be suffering so. But if he hadn't…Kalya would have been executed.

Sighing, he put the matter aside and settled down on the top deck of the zeppelin as Necronim and Kalya went below. His gaze followed them until they disappeared then he looked out over the sea as the flying goblin ship began to move forward.

He could only pray to the Earth Mother that all of this would turn out all right.


	7. What is Wrong With the World

**Chapter 7**

"Halt!" bellowed one of the pair of guards at the base of the zeppelin tower. Both of their axes dropped to form a wall in front of Necronim after Kwaaku had passed by and the Tauren spun around with a fury in his eyes that was palpable.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he roared at the pair. His big hands twitched, wanting to reach for his fighting claws, but he held himself back from such action.

The guard that bellowed narrowed his eyes and grunted, "All undead are to be escorted into the capital as per order of the Warchief and Lady Sylvanas. You will come with us and we will take you to them."

At that the Forsaken rocked back on his heels in shock then gasped, "Syl…Sylvanas is here? Why?"

"That is something you can take up with the Warchief and the Lady," grunted the second guard. She then sniffed the air and glared at Kwaaku, not noticing Necronim shoving Kalya slightly behind him. "Tauren! You smell of human!"

Kwaaku blinked then chuckled darkly, his voice rumbling ominously as he said, "A few attempted to jump us whilst we were in Stranglethorn. They thought they had taken out him and all sprang on me. Be surprised if I will be able to get the smell out for days."

The guards chuckled then took up stances on either side of Necronim as they allowed him to step forward. He glanced at either of them then looked sharply at Kwaaku, jerking his head towards Kalya. As the Tauren moved towards the young woman, he walked away with the guards and towards the gate of Orgrimmar.

Glares and muttered words followed him the entire way, each one he heard clearly striking like a direct stab to his dead heart. But he held himself as erect as he could manage with his wound and let his arms dangle at his sides, wishing Kwaaku had let him take back at least one of his daggers.

What he noticed as he was escorted through the city was that his kind were remarkably absent. Up until they reached Grommash Hold itself, there was not hide or hair of one. And when one did appear, he was not just some regular Forsaken.

He was one of Sylvanas' guards. And while the Lady herself might be present, her personal guards rarely left the Undercity.

More of her guards – who usually lined the path to the throne room – were interspersed among the Warchief's guards all through the hold. The sense of unease he had had since waking up grew as they reached the inner most room and he beheld the leader of his kind and the Horde standing next to each other. His two guards saluted then one barked, "Warchief! This undead…"

"Forsaken," corrected Thrall calmly, turning so his blue eyes could fix on Necronim.

The guard looked suitably cowed and finished, "Has just arrived. One of the few with his faculties still intact."

_What?_ Though Necronim, looking around in a panic at the royal guards. What, by the Light, was going on?

Sylvanas' ghostly eyes fixed on him then and he stiffened under her gaze. She took a step forward, towering over him, and made what might have been an attempt to smile. He just stared at her, not noticing his two guards saluting again and leaving.

"I am sure you are quite confused," she said, her voice echoing slightly on its own. "And well so. You were…elsewhere when it happened."

The rogue frowned and asked, "When what happened?"

"The Undercity had fallen and our own people rip each other limb from limb. They have…" Sylvanas stiffened as she snarled, "They have returned to what we were before."

Necronim stared then slowly began to shake his head, feeling fear begin to snake its way into his belly.

"No," he gasped softly. "Not that."

Thrall frowned and said, "You are one of the first we've found that hasn't succumbed to it within moments of stepping within this room. Where were you eight days ago?"

"Unconscious."

Sylvanas arched an elegant eyebrow then her sharp gaze was drawn to the bandages bound about his chest. She took a step forward and reached out to touch them, her fingertips just hovering over his wasted flesh, and snorted. "You have been touched by the Light."

Necronim nodded and confirmed that with, "One who actually knows the trick to truly harming us. The pain overwhelmed me and I was unconscious for whenever this occurred and the day after. Then I awoke and sensed…" He paused and trailed off, causing the Lady's intense gaze to fall on him.

"Sensed what?" she pressed.

"That something was wrong," he finished after a moment.

Sylvanas frowned and turned to look at Thrall, who was scratching his chin in thought. "What do you think of this?"

"That he tells the truth," replied the Warchief. "I've seen such wounds inflicted before myself and I know the harm they can do. Though…what were you doing going up against one that knew such a technique? So far as I know, every paladin that knows such has strict orders to remain within the walls of Stormwind."

"I…"

"Speak the truth," commanded Sylvanas suddenly, making him look at her. "We have no time now for lies and dalliances."

Necronim scowled then sighed, shoulders slumping as he said, "I broke into the dungeons of Stormwind and rescued a prisoner."

Both leaders blinked then Thrall leaned forward and asked, "An orc?"

The Forsaken winced and replied, "No, Warchief. A…a human."

Sylvanas stiffened then snarled, "And where is this human now?"

Necronim started to reply but was cut off by a meek voice from behind him saying in Taur-ahe, "Umm…right here, m'Lady." He spun around and gaped at Kalya as she carefully pushed her hood back, not even noticing the guards all stiffening around her. Guards at the entrance to the Hold, he saw, were holding Kwaaku back and he turned back around towards Thrall.

"Warchief! Please, do not…"

"I do not intend to harm her," rumbled the orc reassuringly. Sylvanas scoffed under her breath but nodded after a moment, waving a hand negligently.

"Very well! Your girl will not be harmed. Stand down."

The Forsaken guards bowed and stepped back as they obeyed their Lady's command. Every orc that guarded Thrall had already stepped back at a slight wave of his hand and Kwaaku was allowed to come forward at last.

"I'm sorry, Nec," he rumbled softly. "I tried to stop her."

"I believe you," said Necronim, smiling at the Tauren. He then frowned at Kalya then held out his hand towards her, wanting to grin as she stepped forward and took it. "You foolish girl. What were you thinking?!"

"About your safety!" she replied shrilly, switching back to Common for a moment since he had. She looked at both Warchief and Dark Lady, her face flushed with embarrassment but also rife with courage. "Forgive me for barging in," she said again in Taur-ahe.

Thrall chuckled and said in Common, "You may speak your tongue here."

Kalya gaped at him for a moment then nodded sharply, dipping absently into a curtsey. "Thank you," she managed to murmur. Then she looked at Necronim worriedly and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Kalya," he replied gently. "Confused but fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, your wound…"

"Kalya."

She gave him a flustered look and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Necronim smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder, noting the reaction of the two leaders out of the corner of his eye. Both were surprised that she didn't pull away from his touch – in fact, she leaned into the touch if anything and calmed a bit.

"Intriguing," muttered Sylvanas, tilting her head at the pair. Then she asked, "And why did you risk your un-life to save this girl?"

"He asked me to," replied the rogue, gesturing at Kwaaku, who had no real idea where the conversation was going. He'd tried his best to actually teach him Common over the past few years but the Tauren just couldn't comprehend it. Reading it was simple enough for him and he could write it well under Kalya's teaching but speaking it was out of his league. "We met her several years ago in Hillsbrad. A paladin attempted to kill me – Kwaaku stepped in the path of the strike and allowed me an opening to down him. She came across us in the woods and helped us of her own will, even helping me drag him away so we wouldn't be discovered."

Necronim paused and looked at the young woman next to him for a moment before continuing.

"I asked a druid by the name of Carentareta to help me find a safe place for her. She found a home for her in Moonglade and these two passed letters back and forth from then on. One of the Night Elves there discovered her gone, taken by Alliance soldiers, and contacted him about it. I knew where they'd take her and Kwaaku managed to convince me into going after her."

Thrall nodded at this and said, "I know the druid you speak of well. Her son is a smart lad. But a fine question is how you knew just where they would take her."

The Forsaken flinched and nervously shifted for a moment before showing his wrist and the brand on it. "This," he said in a gruff voice. "I…in my previous life, I was once privy to the hospitality of the Stormwind dungeons."

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes and nodded absently, saying to Thrall, "Its true. I've seen such brands before…but never one as elegant as this."

"I was a prisoner they weren't very willing to let go alive, m'Lady."

"And yet you did. How?"

Kalya bit her lip as Necronim's eyes guttered out abruptly and he ducked his head. She reached out to clutch his shoulder in reassurance and his bony fingers closed over hers a moment later.

"Nec," breathed Kwaaku from behind them, looking worriedly down at his friend. More than anyone, he knew how hard the rogue had tried to keep his past hidden from everyone – even himself. For a while he had thought that he had tried so hard he had forgotten it.

Now he saw that that wasn't true at all. His friend remembered everything of his past life…and that was why he missed it so.

"I know the layout of the Deeps and all of the dungeons like the back of my hand," the rogue breathed after a moment. He didn't want to speak of his past but Sylvanas' gaze and voice practically forced the tale out of him. "I was…I was practically raised in SI:7's halls from before I could walk. Then I…something happened and I couldn't abide by the rules anymore. I stole, I pilfered, and I took everything and anything that I could get my hands on. And I was _good_ at it. But they caught me, just like they catch almost everyone. I was thrown into the dungeons, branded, and sentenced to be hanged."

He shuddered violently but his mouth seemed to have taken on a life of its own now, spilling out his previous life for the two leaders, his friends, and the guards to hear.

"The thought of dying terrified me almost to the point of driving me insane. But I remembered exploring those dungeons as a child and finding every nook and cranny I could. And…there was a passage outside in one of the cells – a passage hidden so well, it wasn't found until I had to rescue Kalya and flee before I could close it. I broke out of my cell when a guard came with food and fled to the cell I knew it was in, making my escape before anyone was the wiser. And I ran and I kept running until I reached Andorhal. Then…then…"

His voice broke then and Thrall turned on the Dark Lady with a growl of, "That is enough! Release him."

"How could you?!" exclaimed Kalya, glaring at the Banshee Queen as she flung her arms protectively around Necronim. He sank against her and Kwaaku caught him, gently helping her lower the suddenly limp Forsaken to the floor. "What did you do to him?!"

"We needed to know," said Sylvanas sharply as she let her spell fade. "And do not attempt to lecture me, child. There are far more important things going on here than one former man's attempts to hide his past."

"Former man," repeated Necronim in a bitter voice. "Yes, that would be what I am."

Kalya twitched then grabbed his face, forcing him to look up at her.

"No!" she screamed. "Don't you listen to her, Necronim! For only knowing you a little while, I think I know you almost as much as Kwaaku. And I know that you are a better man than most that dare call themselves that!"

"Am I?" he asked, staring at her bleakly. "You only heard a fragment of the story just now, Kalya. I did miserable things then, even if they were for a good reason. A good man, you say? I'm nothing of the sort."

"Don't say that! Necronim…" Her voice softened as she breathed, "Saran…please. Please believe me."

Thrall looked at the pair on his floor then whirled on Sylvanas with a fury that made her guards stiffen. He growled and spat, "I do not care what methods you use within your own city to get information, Sylvanas, but you will not use them again in mine!"

"My city is no longer mine!" snapped the Banshee Queen.

"Then you shall have to find somewhere else to practice your foul interrogations, won't you?"

Cold eyes narrowed and she hissed, "You do not wish to make an enemy of me, Warchief. We…"

"You think to threaten me with that new Plague of yours?" At her stiffening, Thrall chuckled darkly and continued, "I have my sources of information amongst your people, Sylvanas. Some of them aren't very happy with your method of ruling…or of continuing in this quest of yours to rid the planet of all life."

"You need us!"

"Do I? You came to _me_ asking of an alliance, Sylvanas, so you could hold your borders against humans. That was it. Now your city has fallen and those that are left of your subjects are here or still scattered around the world. Do not tempt my patience and my hospitality. I do not condone such actions as yours within my city."

"So you say. But the warlocks in the Cleft speak different."

"You think me a fool to not see their movements? I know their workings, Sylvanas, and I let them think they are secure." He smiled grimly as he finished, "They are only tightening the noose about their neck. Now…will you abide by my rule?"

Sylvanas sniffed and replied, "Only when within your city."

"Good." The Warchief then motioned to several of his guards and barked out orders in Orcish. "Gramun, Wrost, escort these three to a room within the Hold. See that they are there in comfort and…" His blue eyes fell on Necronim and he added, "And retrieve a shaman to see if there is anything he can do for the Forsaken. If you can find her, the druid Carentareta would be better."

"Yes, Warchief!" replied the two guards. Kwaaku nodded at the pair then gently pulled the insensate rogue to his feet, gently guiding him along in front of him as Gramun led the way. Kalya rose slowly to her feet and turned back towards the two leaders, Wrost standing at attention behind her in wait. She curtsied then said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Warchief."

Thrall waved a hand and replied, "Your friend is one of the few Forsaken who hasn't fallen to this ailment. It is to our advantage to have him be well. And anyone who has the friendship of that druid, I've learned, is someone who deserves care."

"Thank you anyway," she said again. And as she turned and nodded at Wrost, who began to lead her out, she glared venomously at Sylvanas. The Banshee Queen's actions against Necronim weren't going to be something forgotten by her for a while.

As they watched her retreating back, Thrall grunted, "You've made a new enemy it seems."

Sylvanas stood stiffly next to him and he almost didn't think she was going to reply after the browbeating he had given in front of her own men. But she finally said, "She is only human."

The Warchief of the Horde blinked then smiled, watching the young woman's back. He remembered two other brave young women that had done things to change the world and chuckled.

"You might be surprised by what mere humans can do," he said sharply. Then, without giving her a chance to reply, he turned and went towards his own room in the Hold. If he wasn't mistaken, Carentareta's son would still be in there poring over his maps and trying to figure what might have caused this.

He just hoped that whatever had affected the Forsaken that remained in the Undercity did not come to claim those that had escaped it. If it did…he wasn't certain his city and his people would survive an attack from within.

**Author's Note**

Yes, there are tie-ins between this story and _Child of the Horde_. And vice versa. This takes place sometime before CotH happens and I will refer back to this event at some point during that story. Reading CotH isn't required to understand this story but you would know the characters a bit better then.


	8. Won't Let Him Go

**TurtleGirl:** The title of the book on Thrall is _Lord of the Clans_.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"What did she do to him?" asked Kalya as she sank down onto the floor beside the low bed. Necronim lay on it in front of her, suddenly gone from the man she knew – and he was a man in her mind, no matter the state of his body – to this terrifyingly still mass. His eyes had long guttered out and his wasted chest again heaved for air it didn't need. Every few moments, a low whimper would escape him and she slid her hand into his, clutching tight to his bony fingers. "Kwaa, what did she _do_?!"

The big Tauren settled heavily on a chair behind her and sighed before replying, "I've heard stories of it. There's something she can do…some magic she gained when she was turned into what she is. It forces a person to tell the truth no matter who they protest against it. And there have been some…"

At his pause, she bit her lip and breathed, "Some what?"

"Some who have gone insane."

Kalya choked on a sob at that then felt fierce anger at the Banshee Queen rise up from deep within her. "How dare she do that to her own people?!" she raged. "That…that…it's wrong!"

"There are many things wrong in this world, Kalya," said Kwaaku gently. "One of them is that. Another is the situation of our friend there. And…" He was cut off by a sharp rap at the door and coughed out, "Yes?"

The guard Wrost said something gruffly in Orcish through the door and the Tauren said, "Yes, let him in."

There was a grunt then the door swung open to allow in something that Kalya had not expected to see here among the Horde. A young boy, probably not much younger than she'd been when she'd met Kwaaku and Necronim, entered the room slowly. He cast a confused, wary gaze in her direction then beamed at Kwaaku, barking out a greeting in Taur-ahe.

"Kwaaku! I didn't know you were here!"

The Tauren let out a rumbling chuckle at that and replied, "What other Tauren do you know that accompanies a Forsaken?"

"My mother," replied the boy with a shrug of his shoulder. "Speaking of which, she's coming this way now. I thought I'd come ahead and tell you so you would know."

"I see. Hopefully she will be able to help Nec."

"Mother can help anyone!"

Kwaaku laughed at that then said, "Ah. Taemmur, I would like you to meet my friend Kalya. Kalya…this is Taemmur Bloodwolf, son of the druid Carentareta."

Kalya smiled as the boy's wary gaze fell on her again and she bowed her head before speaking softly in Taur-ahe, "Its nice to meet you, Taemmur."

His eyes went wide as she spoke and he stammered after a moment, "You…you…"

"She learned Taur-ahe in Moonglade," explained Kwaaku. "Just like you are learning that horrible Common from the Warchief."

Taemmur wrinkled his nose at that and snapped, "I hate it! Its just so confusing."

Kalya laughed a little at that then took a moment to study this boy. Wild dark hair was bound into two braids that cascaded over his shoulders, half-hiding the gray eyes that peered out of his darkly tanned face. His whole manner spoke of a life lived wild and carefree but that was starting to be torn away by actual chores and cares of the world.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what would make him look like that or why he was learning to speak Common from the Warchief himself. Not because she did not want to know. No, she truly wanted to get to know this boy who had been raised by a Tauren amongst the peoples of the Horde that she had come to love more than her own.

But she didn't think she could take anything more than she already had already taken upon herself to deal with Necronim.

Taemmur sighed and said, "But I have to learn it, unfortunately. Wish I didn't, but I do."

Kwaaku's smile at that was a touch bitter and Kalya spoke up as she noticed it.

"Why?"

The boy blinked at her then glanced nervously at the Tauren, who sighed and replied, "That's your story to tell if you want, Taem, not mine. You know that."

"Yeah," replied the youth, shifting on his feet. "Doesn't make me want to have other people tell it anyway."

Kalya decided to give him a break and said gently, "You don't have to tell me, Taemmur. I know I'm an unknown and probably really strange for you to be around having grown up here."

He blinked at her then smiled as he gave her a shrug. Slowly he moved over and took the other chair in the room since she had opted to sit on the floor. Clasping his hands in front of him, his eyes studied them for a long moment before he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"I know what I really am," he said softly. "Human. Like you. I shouldn't be nervous around you."

"Its okay to be nervous around what you don't understand."

"I understand humans fine. I've seen the wounds they've inflicted and a few of the good things they've done. But…" His eyes flicked to where her hand clutched at Necronim's and he tilted his head curiously at it. "But I've never seen a human like you."

Kalya smiled at that and turned her gaze back to the wasted form on the bed, tears springing up in her eyes as she remembered seeing the longing in his face. Leaning forward slightly, she cupped his cheek with her free hand and breathed, "I don't think there are any humans like me, Taemmur."

_I wish…I wish things could be the way you want_, she said in silence to the still form before her. _With all my heart, I do._

There was another grunt in Orcish from the guards through the door then and it opened before any of them could say a thing. Kwaaku was standing by the time it was open all the way and inclined his head with a rumble of, "Druid Carentareta."

A deep, warm chuckle answered him and Kalya stared as a female Tauren entered the room, wearing silver and blue cloth over her dark fur. Hazel eyes gleamed from underneath a horned hood and she said, "None of that now, Kwaaku. Especially not from you."

Those hazel eyes roved over Taemmur, a loving smile cast at the boy that was returned with a beaming grin, then fell on Kalya. She paused for a moment before looking at Necronim's still form and a sighed passed her lips.

"Oh, Necronim, what have you gotten yourself into now?"

"A wrestle with a paladin and then a fine helping of the Dark Lady's interrogation tactics," offered Kwaaku helpfully.

Carentareta stiffened at that and for a moment Kalya saw the hazel eyes under the hood flash to a feral yellow as a growl rippled from the Tauren's throat. Then she clenched a fist and hissed, "She used her foul tactics on him?"

"Yes," confirmed Kwaaku. Beside him Taemmur went pale and glanced down at Necronim then back up at his mother.

"Like…like what happened with Resden," he breathed. "Right?"

"Yes, _An'she_," replied Caren with a slow nod. Kalya mentally translated the meaning of the word she had just spoken and was confused until she realized it was her personal name for her son. "Just like with Resden. Now…if I may take your place, m'dear?"

It took Kalya a moment to realize that she was talking to her and exclaimed, "Oh! Oh, of course." She rose quickly and squeezed Necronim's hand before gently laying it across his chest as she shifted to the head of the bed. Caren nodded at her and moved forward to kneel down on the floor, placing one hand on his forehead gently and picking up his abandoned hand in the other. Her eyes fluttered closed and she took a deep breath as she spoke a prayer to the Earth Mother.

The next few moments seemed to hang on the edge of an eternity for all of them. When Caren lifted her head, Kwaaku asked, "Will he recover?"

"He will recover fine, never fear," replied the druid gently. She rubbed her thumb across his forehead, drawing a low groan from him, and continued, "This one is a strong and brave soul for all of his faults. Were he as he should be, it would have taken her a great deal more than the effort she put in to draw the truth from him. Speaking of such…"

She laid his hand down and placed that hand on his chest, right over where his unbeating heart was and near his wounds. A faint green glow spread around her hand and Kalya swore she smelt the grass of Elwynn Forest in the air around her. Kwaaku and Taemmur, on the other hand, smelt the scent of Mulgore – as did Caren. What Necronim might smell – if he even could – was anyone's guess.

After a moment the scent and the glow faded, leaving Caren to sigh and smile.

"There," she murmured, "give him a day or so to rest as is and he should be back on his feet again."

Kalya breathed a sigh of relief at that then said, "Thank the Light."

The druid chuckled as she rose to her feet and said, "I have other things to take care of now but I will return tomorrow to check on him. And we shall see if we have a tunic that fits him, won't we, _An'she_?"

Taemmur just nodded at that and replied, "Yes, Mother." Of course, she meant that _she_ was going to make him a new tunic but she tended to hide her skill at leatherworking. Most weren't very impressed by a druid who made clothes from the skins of the animals they protected.

Those people didn't understand that she asked the animals to give her their life and flesh and not a spare bit of it was ever wasted.

Caren smiled from underneath her hood then said, "I bid you both farewell then. _An'she_, you should be getting back to your studies."

Taemmur nodded in response and after she had left, fell limply back down into his chair. "I don't want to go back, Kwaa There's so much going on right now that I have to be in the throne room if I want to walk to the Warchief at all. And I hate that." He shuddered and added, "Its not the Forsaken. Lady Sylvanas…she…there's something about her that makes me want to run away and hide."

"You aren't the only one that feels like that," said Kwaaku, gently patting the boy on the shoulder. "Though you should do as your mother said and get back to your studying. Or whatever you've been doing since this whole debacle has started."

"I've been looking over the Warchief's maps and books, trying to find anything that could give a hint as to what is going on," replied Taemmur. "Well…the ones that aren't written in Common, that is. So far though…nothing. It could be the Lich King making a strike but it could also simply just be the Forsaken losing whatever allowed them to return to themselves."

"Then why didn't Necronim fall to it?" asked Kalya. "If it's just something that failed…wouldn't all of them have fallen?"

Taemmur shook his head and replied, "If it were that, Lady Sylvanas and her guards wouldn't be here. I think, maybe, that those that had a strong hold on their souls could've survived it. Not every Forsaken is accounted for, after all." He bit his lip as he continued, "Our friend Resden is still out there somewhere. I pray to the Earth Mother that he hasn't fallen to whatever this is."

The room was silent for a long moment the Kalya looked at Taemmur and said, "I could help you with the maps and books."

"I don't know…" he said slowly. "There aren't many that the Warchief allows in his rooms…"

"Then bring them here. I want to find out what is going on as much as you and everyone else does."

The youth blinked at her for a moment then nodded.

"Alright. I'll bring what I can down here. But there's no guarantee we'll find out anything even then."

"I don't care," hissed Kalya. She dropped down next to the bed again and picked up Necornim's hand, clasping both of hers around it. "All I've done since he rescued me is cause him too much worry for my sake and hurt him in a way I can't fix. If I can but try to help him with books, I'll take that."

"Kalya," rumbled Kwaaku softly in a sad tone. He hadn't just observed the longing for something more in Necronim – she had that same look in her eyes as well. They were her only real friends now as her own kind would likely never take her back…and he didn't think she was too inclined to go back either.

She wiped tears from her eyes and hissed, "Don't you try to change my mind, Kwaa. Because you aren't going to be able to no matter what you say."

The Tauren snorted then blinked at Taemmur as the youth started to laugh softly. He shook his head, braids swinging gently, and looked at the equally confused Kalya with an amused smile.

"I agree with her, Kwaa – you should stop trying to convince her. She's as stubborn as my mother and it looks like she might have Sai's tongue." He grinned at her and bowed slightly, saying, "I'll let you both rest today and I'll come by with what I can tomorrow."

"Thank you, Taemmur," said Kalya softly. "I…"

"Just Taem works and there's no need for thanks." The youth shrugged and said, "I'll help you do this and you can tell me something about what its like to be human."

She chuckled at that and nodded.

"Deal."

"I'll be by tomorrow then. Erm…and I'll tell Wrost to bring you something for bedding, Kwaa."

"Don't bother," rumbled the Tauren, waving off the youth's look of concern. "I've slept with a tree for a pillow for a few good years. Sleeping upright in a chair won't harm me."

Taemmur shrugged then bid them a good evening before vanishing out the door. The moment he was gone, Kwaaku leaned forward and gently cupped his hand around Kalya's shoulder.

"He's going to be okay."

"I know," she whispered, still clutching Necronim's hand tight.

"And we'll figure this out. He won't fall back to that."

Kalya bit her lip and stared at his rotted jaw, trying to imagine it twisted into a feral snarl with blood dripping from his teeth. The image made her shudder and she hissed, "I won't let him go back to that."

"_We_ won't," corrected Kwaaku, squeezing her shoulder gently. He looked over her head and Necronim and nodded solemnly. "We won't let him fall."


	9. The Sleeper Awakes Again

**Chapter 9**

_Searing pain. A paladin who knew what he was doing._

_The girl…screaming._

_Kwaaku talking in his rumbling voice._

_Orcs glaring with accusing eyes._

_The Warchief talking in his calm, reassuring voice._

_Sylvanas speaking, her voice driving nails into his head._

_Her. Screaming again – screaming _his _name._

_Saran._

_SARAN._

_**You. Are. MINE.**_

Necronim screamed and bolted upright with a feral snarl. He curled himself over his knees a moment later, shuddering and gasping, "NO! Never again, _never!_"

"Nec!"

He heard the voice – recognized it – but flinched away from it still. The sound of heavy books hitting the floor made him throw himself back against the wall, eyes closed tight as he took in harsh and ragged breaths. His fists clenched in something – a blanket – as he half-sensed someone approaching him.

"Necronim?" breathed a soft voice. Soft. Female.

_Her._

He drew a ragged breath in as her hands touched his chest, ever gentle and light as a feather. There was a creak as she leaned on the bed he seemed to be on and then her mouth was by his ear, speaking Common in a low voice laced with tears.

"Saran…you're safe. We're here. And we're not going to let anything happen to you."

Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked at her as she pulled back slightly so he could see her. At the sight of the tears streaming down her cheeks, he lifted a hand and gently brushed them away. And once again marveled that she didn't pull away from his plagued touch.

By the Light, she was a blessing he didn't deserve.

"Kalya," he rasped softly. "You're still here."

She looked confused at that and asked, "Why wouldn't I be?"

He just stared at her and wondered if she hadn't heard. Certainly he hadn't allowed Sylvanas to pull the details of what he'd done out of him but it wasn't that hard to figure it out. SI:7 had taught him well and he'd done things he was ashamed of for…for a reason that seemed stupid now. What he'd done hadn't saved them…

And he had killed. Stolen. Maimed. He had broken apart families just for the hope that he could…could…

Closing his eyes, he thrust those memories back into the past where they belonged. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her again, saying, "Nevermind. Its…its nothing."

Kalya bit her lip and the look in her blue-green eyes told him that she knew he was lying. He knew it, she knew it, and the others in the room probably knew it too. But he couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

No…he wouldn't _let_ himself give a damn.

Kwaaku suddenly loomed over the young woman's shoulder and rumbled, "Good to have you back with us, Nec." No mention of the screaming fit of earlier or the flinching. Just…nothing. That was what he liked about the big Tauren – he knew when to press things and when to leave them well enough along. And he'd learned well over the years they'd been friends when what situation was what.

"Good to be back," said Necronim with a thin smile. He then saw the boy around Kalya's shoulder and frowned. "I know you…"

"Taemmur, sir," came the response nervously in Taur-ahe. "Taemmur Bloodwolf."

"Ah. Caren's son." He then snorted and added, "And drop the 'sir', boy. I wasn't deserving of such when I was alive and that still holds now."

The youth nodded then stooped and picked up one of the fallen books from the floor, carefully straightening one of the pages that had been crumpled. He then stuck it and two others under his arm and said to Kalya, "I'll go then. Let you all have some time together."

"No, Taem, its fine," she said quickly but the youth waved it off with a smile. Kwaaku gave him a sideways glance and Taemmur half-smiled at him before nodding at the pair and leaving without another word – very effectively cutting off her protests. The boy had seen the connection between the two of them too, though he had to admit it was starting to become as clear as daylight.

He probably should speak to both of them about it or just Necronim. With all that was going on…it probably wasn't wise to have such feelings broadcasted loudly.

Looking over at the bed, he silently left the room as well as he saw Kalya settle down onto the edge of the bed. As he closed the door and told the two guards outside the to not let anyone inside, he headed out of the Hold with a shake of his head.

But speaking to them could wait a while.

Let them have their time together while they could.

As the door closed and he heard the sound of Kwaaku's hooves disappearing into the distance, Necronim slowly shifted himself back further towards the wall and away from Kalya. Her presence so close was…it was unnerving. It was bringing up feelings he'd thought long dead – purely human feelings – and he was doing his level best to fight them down.

He had to stop this before it went any further.

"Kalya," he said softly. "You have to go."

She looked at him in confusion, saying, "Go? Nec…where would I go?"

"Back to Moonglade. Caren is the one that took you there before – you probably didn't recognize her now with that hood of hers. There…at least there you might be safe."

"SAFE?!" exploded Kalya, staring at him. "It was in Moonglade that they found me! How will going back there make me safe?"

Necronim sighed and closed his eyes. Why did she have to make this so difficult for him?

"Nec…if you think I'm just going to run away from you, you're wrong. I don't care what you did in your past or for what reason's! Its just that to me – the past."

He growled under his breath and opened his eyes again to look at her. "Its not just that, Kalya!" he snapped. She leaned away from him at the harsh tone in his voice and he softened it as he continued. "Kalya…I…care about you. You know that."

"Yes."

"Too much," he rasped, catching her eyes with his. She stared at him, stared deep into his golden eyes and bit her lip as she felt it tremble.

"Nec…"

He reached out for her hands then and clasped it, feeling the warmth of her seep into his bones. She clutched at his with a fervor that delighted and scared him and he knew, in that moment, that she felt the same for him as he did her. But they couldn't be…

"Saran," he gasped, his voice hoarse as he spoke his real name for the first time in many years. "If anyone will still call me that name, I wish it to be you. Kalya…we can't continue this, you know that."

She sniffed then nodded, ducking her head down against her chest. "I know," she mumbled and he could hear the tears in her voice.

He frowned and rasped, "I wish I could. Light knows you're the first to ever look at me like I'm not the monster I am."

"You're not a monster!" exploded Kalya, jerking her head up. Her voice softened with tears as she freed one of her hands from his and lifted it to clasp his pallid cheek. "You're not a monster…"

"I'm dead," said Necronim coldly. "There is no coming back from this life. And for that…for that I have no right to feel for you the way I do."

"Saran…"

"I don't, Kalya. As this…I can't give you anything."

"I don't care!"

He smiled and touched her cheek briefly, his hand shaking as he forced it back down. What it really wanted to do was stay there and soak in her warmth – her warmth of life that he no longer had.

"You will," he said softly. "You'll want a life…"

"With who?" she hissed in mild anger. "What man would have me after what they charged me with?"

"A smart one that saw you for the woman you are."

"Saran…I don't _want_ anyone else."

He sighed at that and said, "Kalya…"

"I know you can't give me anything a normal man could," she said softly, her fingers tensing against his cheek. "I don't care. Saran, please. Don't make me leave you."

For a long moment he stared at her then chuckled, saying, "You are too stubborn for your own good. I'm giving you an out!"

"I don't want it," she replied.

"You don't know what you're agreeing to. I can feel the emotions, Kalya, and the wants – but I don't have any of the consequences of them. You will."

She shrugged at that. "I'll deal with them."

Necronim blinked a few times then sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his cheek into her touch – her very alive warmth. After a moment he looked at her again and said softly, "We can't be like this anymore. Its too dangerous."

"I know. Just…one last day like this?"

"One last day, Kalya. We have that."

She smiled and abruptly shifted forward on the bed, curled up against his side before he quite knew she had moved. He held himself stiff for a moment, shocked to the core that she would want to be this close to him.

Kalya smiled up at him and said, "You don't reek of death, Saran, no matter how much you might think so."

Necronim relaxed a bit at that, his arm falling across her back to curl around her shoulders. "What then?" he asked, truly curious. His sense of smell had mostly gone out with his death and anything he caught the scent of now had to be strong.

"The forest," she replied. "Leather…metal…"

"No rot of the grave?"

"Not a shred of it."

"But I'm cold," he said rather stiffly.

Her arms wrapped around him then and the warmth of her cheek pressed against his wasted chest, making him wonder again how she could stand to touch his flesh. Her very alive presence tingled against his skin and he groaned, closing his eyes and dropping his head down so his forehead rested on her hair.

"Kalya," he breathed.

"Saran?"

"Thank you."

Kalya just smiled and closed her eyes, content to just sit with him as they were forever. She didn't know how she managed to feel for him for much when he was truly little more than a corpse. Somehow…somehow she just saw him as he really was – a truly good person who had done horrible things in his past for what had seemed a right reason…and who had had horrible things happened to him. And that was what she loved about him, that soul he had managed to keep even despite his ignoring his past and trying to drive everyone away. His body was nothing so long as she could love that wonderful soul and it loved her back.

The brush of his bony fingers against her arm raised bumps there, a chill touch, and then it settled. The hand gripped slightly and at a soft gasp from him she realized just how much he missed the life that had been torn from him. He was shaking, trying desperately not to cling to her, as her living warmth soaked into his dead skin.

By the Light, she wished she could give him back that warmth he so craved.


	10. Some Answers But More Questions

**Chapter 10**

"Lok-Narash! LOK-NARASH!"

"What's going on?" exclaimed Kalya as she startled awake by the shouting. She was mildly stunned to discover she had fallen asleep against Necronim's chest and pulled away to look up at him. His eyes were as bright again as they were the day she met him and Kwaaku, glowing golden with some emotion she didn't quite comprehend. "Saran?"

He looked at her and replied, "They're calling for arms. Something is happening."

Suddenly there was a high-pitched wail that resounded through the walls, making Kalya clasp her hands over her ears and him wince. "What was that?!"

"Sylvanas," he replied shortly, giving her further proof that he didn't see the former Quel'dorei as the queen most of the Forsaken did. And she could see his reasoning, especially after what she had done to him. "I need to go up."

"You're still not healed!"

"I'm healed well enough," said Necronim sharply. He then softened his tone as he pulled away from her, saying, "I've been kept out of the fight for too long, Kalya. Something will be coming to our door soon – coming after the rest of the Forsaken. I'm not going to let it take me without a fight and a dagger in its damnable side."

As he rose to his feet, only wobbling slightly, he clenched a fist and snarled, "I won't be controlled again. I won't!"

"Saran…has something happened?"

Kalya staggered out of the bed after him, fumbling for her shoes before helping him find his gear. He had no chest piece, however, as she was still wearing the remains of it and pinned a half-cloak at his throat. He didn't answer her until he closed the clasp on his belt, adjusting his two daggers so one rested at each hip.

"Something…something spoke to me as I woke. Not the Lich King, I wouldn't still be in control of myself if it were him. But…there is something out there that either wants us under control or just to rip our souls from us and turn us back into the mindless creatures we were. I won't go back to that, Kalya."

She stared at him for a moment then flung her arms around his chest, causing him to stiffen for a moment. Then he closed his arms around her, savoring the feel of her living warmth and pressing his face against her hair.

"This is the last time we can do this," he muttered. "After this…no more showing how we feel. We can't risk it."

"I understand," she whispered. Then she tilted her head back so she could look at him and sniffed, blinking back tears. "And I won't let you fall, Saran."

He smiled and pulled away from her, caressing her cheek briefly. "Just don't kill yourself trying to help me. I'm not worth that much trouble."

She nodded and his face suddenly closed off, becoming that same mask of indifference he'd worn when they'd met. He turned and closed his fist around the doorknob, pulling it open and looking outside. Both Gramun and Wrost were gone from outside the door and he rushed out at a jog with one hand on each dagger. She rushed after him, not quite able to keep up with him but she could keep him in sight. Upstairs he ran into the Hold and brushed past the Royal Guard and Thrall's Kor'kron Elite on the way outside, a hand on each dagger.

He burst past Sylvanas standing in the doorway to the Hold and sprinted on by, taking a sharp right when he charged out into the dusty roads. The pounding of Kalya's feet behind him echoed in his ears as he ran, right up until he reached the bridge that stretched to the flight tower. Instead of taking that route like she would, he bounced down from the path across roofs to the ground and continued towards the front gate where a large group had formed. He slid past easily, though he felt a bit of a twinge in his right side as he twisted around a big Tauren male's elbow, and scowled as he came to the front of the croup. Three guards were holding down what looked to be a female Forsaken and he half recognized the big sword that lay near her. Another guard was hovering nearby as Caren, her hood thrown back, supported a Forsaken mage who appeared on the verge of collapse.

"Caren!" he rasped. "Who…"

"We…we came from the Undercity," gasped the mage, trying to struggle to stand on his own. "Var-Varimathras charged us to come. He…"

Caren frowned and said quickly, "Wait and speak of this to Sylvanas, Resden. And you three! Let her up!"

"Please," added Necronim as the three guards didn't look ready to comply. "I know we're all under suspicion right now but I know her."

"She keeps snarling!" exclaimed one of the guards. "Just like…"

He snarled himself at that and spat, "She's only been able to snarl since she was struck down by the Plague! Something happened to her voice and she has not been able to speak a word since she awoke from that nightmare. Now let her up!"

"Please," said Caren gently to the three guards. "Hover around her if you must and take her weapon but let the Warchief decide whether she is the danger the others have been!"

At that the trio grunted and moved away, allowing the female Forsaken to sit up and straighten her dusty and dented armor. She ran a rotted hand back through her wild mane of purple tinted hair then rose and moved quickly towards Necronim. Her hands started to fly through a complicated series of motions but he stilled them with his, shaking his head.

"Wait a moment, Scy," he said quietly. "Then you can tell everything at once and I can translate."

She frowned at that then nodded, her glowing eyes filled with a deep regret. And he'd seen it often enough when traveling with her the few times he had to know such a look was over her lost voice. Lucky for him, she had been a Lordaeron guard and not one in Stormwind, otherwise he might have never escaped the Deeps like he had.

"Nec!"

He turned as Kalya pressed her way through the crowd, having acquired a hooded cloak from somewhere – his guess was that it was Kwaaku's work – and he squeezed her shoulder gently. "All's fine," he assured. "We're heading back to the Hold."

She nodded then looked beyond him at the female Forsaken, who was staring at her in shock. Necronim smiled and ushered the pair forward with one arm behind each, the three guards following closely behind them.

Caren bypassed them moments later on the back of a black wolf, the Forsaken mage held firmly in front of her against her chest. Hissing, the rogue urged the moving group faster and they arrived back at the entrance to Grommash Hold as a guard was tugging the wolf away from the door. The three guards behind them moved them further in and they arrived to see Caren urging the mage to drink a potion as Sylvanas hovered nearby.

"What news?" demanded the Banshee Queen.

"Give him a moment!" snarled Caren, eyes flaring feral as she spun towards the Forsaken woman. Sylvanas drew herself up haughtily but the druid had apparently had had enough. "And if you dare try those tactics of yours, I'll make personally sure that you find yourself meeting the same fate as Xavius!"

"You dare…!"

"Peace!" bellowed Thrall, well and truly ending the argument. "Druid Carentareta, please take care of the mage so he may answer our questions."

Caren frowned, still glaring at the Banshee Queen, but inclined her head as she rumbled, "Yes, Warchief." She turned back towards Resden, who looked slightly better, and gave him another potion that was handed to her by one of the nearby shamans.

Necronim grunted in amusement at the druid's outburst then saw Scy's hands fly out of the corner of his eye, making him chuckle. As Kalya gave him a confused look, he said softly, "Yes, Scy, she is rather annoyed. And with good reason since our dear 'Lady' attempted her interrogation tactics on me."

Scy snarled at that and he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm fine."

Resden twitched, hacking, then held up a hand as Caren leaned towards him. "No more," he croaked. "I'm well enough to talk now, I think. And if you put another of those concoctions down my throat, I'll turn you into a sheep."

She smiled at that then turned towards Sylvanas, growling, "You may speak with him now."

The Banshee Queen sniffed then fixed her gaze on the mage, who was sagging in a chair. "What news from Varimathras?" she insisted.

Resden coughed then replied, "He found those of us that hadn't fallen – a mere handful of souls besides myself and Scy. We fought our way out of the city and managed to defend the flight tower until a zeppelin arrived by mistake. He ordered me us all to run up and board before the goblins fled at the sight of so many mad Forsaken and we ran like demons were on our heels. But…"

"But?" queried Sylvanas.

The mage winced, coughing again, then slumped further into his chair.

"A few managed to get past him. All the others but Scy and myself went down fighting them to make sure we got up to the zeppelin."

"And Varimathras?" asked Thrall.

"He said he would come when he could," replied Resden. "Whatever is going on won't affect him, he said, so he will stay there to see if he can discover what is going on."

Sylvanas nodded, frowning, then looked towards Scy, demanding, "Is this story true?"

Scy straightened up and looked desperately towards Necronim as her hands started to fly through intricate patterns. He followed them easily with his sharp eyes and translated, "It is true, milady. We were trapped and Varimathras saved us. At the tower we fought until we thought our limbs could break. And the men…they went down fighting their own as he said."

Thrall nodded then asked, "What of the tower?"

Scy's hands flew again and Necronim continued in his position as translator.

"Varimathras pulled it down himself as the goblin's drew the zeppelin away."

"If that is all," said Caren suddenly, "I would like permission to take Resden below to rest."

Thrall glanced towards Sylvanas, who looked ready to protest, but who the shrugged and hissed, "Do whatever you wish, druid."

"Thank you, milady," hissed the druid venomously. She then gently pulled Resden upright and helped him forward, softly asking, "May he go to your room here, Necronim?"

"I was about to suggest it myself," replied the rogue. He slid away from Scy and Kalya to take up the space on Resden's other side, earning a smile from his fellow Forsaken.

"Thank you," he rasped.

"Don't thank me yet, old boy," said Necronim. "We're far from being out of the woods yet."

"I'm aware." Resden then smiled and looked at him with eyes that didn't glow at all, something strange in a Forsaken. "Good to see you still with us, lad."

Necronim snorted then they were in the room, he carefully helping Caren lower the mage onto the bed. When he turned around, Kalya, Scy, Taemmur, and Kwaaku had all managed to crowd in and there was a white wolf that had taken up Gramun and Wrost's post at guarding the door.

"Scyllaine," he said softly, drawing Scy's attention to him. She smiled and her hands flew, causing Kalya to ask, "She's…she speaking in some strange language?"

"Signs," replied Necronim as he watched her hands. "Its hard to learn since she made it up herself but there are a few that have put forth the effort."

"What did she just say?" asked Kwaaku as he settled down on the floor.

The rogue scowled then moved to shut the door, carefully not to close the wolf's tail in it. He then turned back towards them as he leaned against it and drew in a heavy breath.

"She has an idea of someone we can go to to ask about this," he said slowly. "A mage she met briefly before the Scourge."

"Where?" asked Taemmur.

"You're not going, lad," hissed Necronim. "Neither are you, Caren."

The druid frowned at him where she sat on the edge of the bed and demanded, "And who are you to tell me what to do, Necronim?"

"Someone who knows that you're better needed here than tagging around with me. If I knew I could, it'd just be Scy and me going but…" His glowing eyes glanced towards Kwaaku and Kalya. "But I can't do that, now can I?"

"No," replied Kalya, smiling. "We're not about to let you get away with that unless you're going to the Undercity. Which it seems like you're not now."

"No, it doesn't. But this could be just as dangerous."

"We're coming with you," rumbled Kwaaku.

Necronim growled then spat, "Fine. We'll get gear and we'll go once I'm declared well enough. With the Warchief's blessing as well."

There was silence for a moment then Kalya asked, "Where are we going?"

Scy's bony fingers flew again and the rogue sighed, closing his eyes as he slumped further against the door.

"Azshara," he replied. "We'll be going to Azshara."

* * *

_To note, "Child of the Horde" will not be continued until after this story is complete since it occurs in the years after this one as some may note by Taemmur being younger than when he leaves in CotH. Also there are a few events that occur here that the next chapter of CotH would spoil. Also the name Caren drops – Xavius – was a Night Elf from the War of the Ancients who became the first Satyr. Malfurion Stormrage gave a tree what it needed to grow itself from Xavius and such is the fate Caren is talking about sending Sylvanas to or at least doing her damnedest to._

_Lok-narash: Arm yourselves (Orcish)_


	11. Onto the Trail

**Chapter 11**

"Easy, easy," hissed Necronim to the wolf underneath him as it shifted, buckles ringing. He then leaned back to look at the others behind him: Kwaaku was still on the ground but standing next to his much larger wolf mount, Kalya was mounted and leaning forward to whisper into her wolf's ear, and Scyllaine had a bemused expression on her face as she stroked her wolf's fur. "Kwaa, let's go!"

The one-eyed Tauren looked towards him then nodded and swung up onto his wolf, the big beast grunting as it took his weight. He urged it forward next to the rogue's then and rumbled, "You're in a hurry."

"I'd like to get this over with." Glowing eyes glanced around and he hissed under his breath, "Plus I'm not too fond of the looks Scy and I have been getting. Nor Kalya."

"She's just the same as Taemmur."

"And how well do most take him?"

Kwaaku snorted. "Fair enough."

"Nec," said Caren softly as she came up to them with Taemmur behind her. He leaned down slightly towards her and they clasped hands, hers glowing slightly as she murmured, "Earth Mother be with you, my friend. And keep your head."

"I intend to keep that for a good few more decades," he assured. Then he looked beyond her at Taemmur, saying, "Keep to your studies, lad. And make sure Resden doesn't do anything stupid."

The youth laughed and nodded, saying, "I will."

Necronim smiled then looked behind him at the others, seeing them ready. He then snapped, "Alright, move it!" and dug his heels into his wolf's sides. The big creature leapt forward eagerly in response with a bark, tail wagging behind them, and he heard the three of his companions pound after them.

"Be careful!" shouted Caren after them as they pounded away through the Valley of Spirits towards the second Orgrimmar entrance. "And be safe!" Kwaaku waved in response then they were out of sight and rushing across the bridge past the guards that stood watch over it, all following Necronim as he tugged his wolf off to the right.

"There's no path this way," observed Kalya with a frown as they came to a sudden halt.

The rogue grunted and pulled out a heavily reused scrap of hide from a saddlebag, unrolling it to reveal the lines of a map carefully sketched onto it. He laid it out across his wolf's neck and peered down at it for a moment before nodding absently to himself.

"We follow the river north," he said. Shifting slightly, he pointed to the cliffs at the opposite side of the river ahead of them, saying, "That's Azshara there but the bridge that leads to it is some distance ahead. I don't trust the roads in Ashenvale so we'll ride along the river until we reach the lumber camp. After we go through it, the bridge shouldn't be that far away."

Kwaaku nodded and peered ahead of them, his single eye narrowed. He fingered the silver claws dangling from a thong on his belt for a moment then snorted.

"What then?" he asked quietly.

"We ride into Azshara and head for Valormok." Necronim glanced behind over his shoulder at Scyllaine, who smiled. "After that, Scy will take the lead. It should be a two day ride – we'll made camp near the bridge on the Azshara side."

He rolled up the map again then and tucked it back into the saddlebag, pulling out a sheathed dagger then. Leaning over, he grabbed Kalya's hand and thrust the blade into it, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She blinked and muttered, "I…I don't know how to fight though."

"I'll teach you," replied Necronim. Then he picked up his wolf's reins again and urged it forward slowly, carefully moving along the edge of the river. Scyllaine followed immediately behind him, humming happily to herself, leaving the others to follow behind. Kalya stared down at the sheathed dagger then tucked it into the tough leather tunic she wore over a pale rough-spun shirt before urging her wolf after the female Forsaken's. Kwaaku grunted and took up the position at the back of the line as they made their way forward.

Giant spiders and bears passed them by without seeming to notice them and their progress was going well. In two hours they reached the lumber camp and Necronim proved quickly to them that he was well in his right mind by speaking quickly to a guard in Orcish. The orc grunted and grimaced up at him then nodded, motioning for them to move on. Necronim bowed in his saddle, thumping one fist to his wasted chest, then nudged his wolf back into motion with the others following behind.

Through the lumber camp they moved easily and were on the other side and continuing on. Another three hours of carefully moving through the forests of Ashenvale had them arriving at the bridge but Necronim urged them back into the woods immediately. As he sent his wolf leaping back into the trees and hushed it to stillness, the pounding of hooves along the road came to all their ears.

Kalya ducked her head to peer through a few branches and watched as three riders came to a halt, eyes widening at the sight of them. They rode the shattered frames of horses scarred by the Plague but the riders were not Forsaken nor Scourge. The only thing that set them apart from a perfectly normal human was their pale skin, dimly glowing red eyes, and the savage grace in which they sat their horses.

The leader's head snapped around and he growled, blue tinged lips drawing back from teeth as black as pitch. Kwaaku laid a hand reassuringly on Kalya's shoulder as Necronim slowly drew his daggers from their sheaths. He shifted so his boots were clear of the saddle and was abruptly still, his wasted body tense as a whipcord as he focused his glowing gaze on the trio.

Another of the trio hissed, sniffing the air, and snarled something to the leader in a dark, vicious tongue that raked across the ears like a rough brush. The moment Necronim and Scyllaine heard it they both whipped back in their saddles with expressions of shock on their faces. Her hands flowing into a slow, smooth motion, Scy jerked her head towards the area of the forest where they had just come. Necronim shook his head slowly in response, eyes never straying from the trio in the road.

The third of the pair snapped at the other two and they growled before jerking their mounts back towards the bridge from where they'd turned towards the group's hiding place. In that same garish tongue, the leader hissed what might have been an order then they were gone, the hooves of their wasted mounts clattering across the bridge.

Several long moments passed then Necronim slowly sheathed his blades and urged his wolf forward into the road. His eyes stared hard after the trio, the sunken planes of his cheeks seeming more hollow than usual.

"Nec?" queried Kwaaku as he leaned forward to calm his great wolf's nervous shaking with a gentle pat. "What were they?"

Scy babbled something, not even bothering with hand motions. It was evident enough what she was trying to say as the anger and fear was just as sure in her voice as the tenseness of her body.

Necronim glanced aside at her then growled, "I think I have some idea of what they were. Do you recall the new Plague that was being bred in the Undercity?"

"Unfortunately," replied the big Tauren.

Kalya's eyes widened then and she gasped, "They were…they…"

"They were what that Plague spawned, I believe," replied Necronim. "They have to be. That…that _thing_ they created was so much different than the first. But it wasn't finished…"

"So what are they?" asked Kwaaku. "Forsaken?"

Scyllaine snarled and the rogue shook his head.

"They spoke in the Scourge tongue, so no, they aren't Forsaken. I'm not sure what they were but I know they aren't friendly. Likely…likely they're even allied with whatever or _whoever_ caused this disaster to happen."

Necronim sighed, rubbed the heel of one gloved hand against his cheek, and continued, "Whatever they are, they are very dangerous. And ahead of us now so we'll have to tread carefully."

Beside him, Scy's hands flew and he nodded.

"Yes, you and Kwaa get in the back now," he said. "Kalya…"

"Yes?" she replied, voice quivering slightly with sudden fear of that trio of pale riders. Her eyes caught Necronim's and a little of the fear faded away at the steel in them, the determination to protect her no matter what.

"Ride at my flank," he said in a slightly lowered voice. "Stay as close as you can, alright?"

"I will," she swore. He smiled tightly in response then looked up at the sky before snapping, "We'll make camp here. Better to ride through the wilderness in the daylight than at night when you can't see."

Kwaaku grunted as he swung down from his saddle. "You can," he rumbled as he led his wolf back into the forest.

Necronim replied, "You and Kalya can't. So we camp." Jumping down from the saddle, he handed his reins to Scyllaine, then said, "Get back into forest. I'm going to go across the bridge and see where their tracks go towards then be right back."

The Forsaken woman nodded and moved away, leading his mount after her. Kalya bit her lip then followed her, murmuring, "Be careful."

He gave her that strange smile of his that wasn't a smile then loped off with hands gripping his daggers. On the other side of the bridge he dropped low to the ground, eyes darting constantly around himself as he continued to move forward. Very clearly outlined in the dirt of the road where the hoof prints of the trio's mounts and he reached out to touch them. Following the line of prints with his eyes, he hissed angrily as they veered off ahead in the road and went towards the left.

Towards Valormok and the mage Scyllaine knew.

"Damnit," he cursed, brushing his hair angrily back.

Whoever that trio was, they were ahead of them and seemingly on the same path. Heading towards the same mage even. And much as he wanted to, they couldn't continue on during the night. He couldn't leave Kwaaku and Kalya on their own and they couldn't ride through Azshara with the pair of them at night either.

Necronim growled low in his throat, the hand on the ground abruptly clenching as he felt a surge of rage filling him. A sudden feral need to kill came upon him and he slumped to the ground, hands coming up to clutch at his head. The need faded almost instantly but he knew that feeling well.

**You**_**will**_** fall to me!**

That voice! That same despicable voice from before!

Struggling to his feet, he hurried back across the bridge, one hand still clamped to his head. The voice had faded now and Necronim realized that Kalya was standing at the other end of the bridge, rushing towards him in the half-dark when she spotted him. He tugged her against his side with his free arm, growling, "What are you doing?"

"I was worried," she replied. He felt her hand touch his cheek then she asked, "Are you alright?"

"Bastard talked to me again. Said I'd fall under his control. Heh. Doesn't know me very well, now does he?"

He saw her smile in the half-dark and she nodded.

"Yes," she murmured warmly. "Doesn't know you at all. What's going to happen, Saran?"

Necronim gave her a hard glance and replied, "We're going to stop this. One way or another, Kalya, we're going to stop this."

Kalya stared at him then breathed, "You're not going anywhere?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. "Now let's get to the camp."

"Okay," she said, leaning into his embrace for another brief second before she pulled away. Just before they walked into the circle of light from the fire that had been started, she stopped and drew out the dagger he had handed her. "Nec. You said you'd teach me to fight."

Necronim paused next to her then nodded, saying, "I will. Would have thought your wandering warrior of a father would have done such a thing, though."

"Women don't fight according to my father," spat Kalya bitterly.

He frowned then reached out to touch her hands, moving one so it gripped the hilt of the dagger solidly. Slowly, together they pulled the blade from its sheath and he spoke in a low hiss.

"Women," he growled out, "I have found to be the most fearsome warriors in existence."

She stared from him to the blade in their joined grasps then looked back at him.

"Teach me," she begged softly.

Necronim nodded and began, though his ragged heart felt a bit heavy as he taught a young woman the death-dealing skills that had practically damned him to his existence in the dim light from the fire.


	12. Tower of Blood

**Chapter 12**

"Death," growled Kwaaku as they stood on the bottom floor of the tower. "There is the great scent of death here, Nec."

Necronim nodded. Even his ravaged sense of smell could catch this scent that raged through the tower. Curiously he glanced upwards and couldn't help a grimace at the sight of blood soaking into the boards of the wooden staircases and ramps spiraling above them.

Behind them Scyllaine wailed in sorrow and he heard Kalya attempting to comfort her. She was a damn fine girl, she was.

"I'm going up," growled Necronim.

"What killed them?" asked Kwaaku. "Do you believe those riders are the ones?"

The rogue paused halfway up the stone steps that led to the first wooden ramp and frowned thoughtfully.

"If they're anything like the Scourge I remember," he muttered, "then, yes, Kwaa. I would say this is clearly their work." Then he rushed up the steps before another question could be asked. He pounded up them out of sight, the scent of death and blood only growing stronger as he continued upwards. And some part of him gave a happy little cackle at the destruction in the topmost part of the tower as he crested the last stair.

Archmage Xylem, the mage Scyllaine had spoken of, lay in a ravaged mess in the center of the most open part of the room. At least…he figured that this corpse was the Archmage. There were the scorch marks from fire all around the body and a few scraps of undead flesh lain strew about it that gave tell of a magical battle.

Necronim frowned and crouch to inspect one of the scraps, drawing one dagger to use to lift it up on the point. He hissed between his teeth as he realized this wasn't the flesh of one of those three riders. No, this was rotted skin like his and Scyllaine's…which meant…

Scourge.

Ghouls.

The unquestioning army of the undead.

**All mine for the taking.**

"Get out of my head!" snapped Necronim, rising to his feet. He glanced towards the Archmage's corpse and felt the urge rise up in him to cross that little bit of space between them and bend down… To taste the dead flesh as he had done before… To…

Snarling, he spun away, closing his eyes tightly as he shoved the urge down and away from himself. He was not that monster anymore! He was himself!

**You are nothing!** Screamed the voice in his mind, scrabbling for control. **You are **_**mine!**_

Necronim flailed against that control and spat aloud, "My name is _Saran!_ And I am my own creature, necromancer!"

**You cannot resist!**

But he could hear it fading already and with his teeth bared, he shoved that foul presence entirely away from himself, sagging to the floor from the effort. Slowly he stood again, closing his eyes in pain as he realized that to hold onto himself, he had to be himself. And no matter how he had denied it over the past years, he had unconsciously held viciously to the man he had been.

That was the only reason he wasn't gone back to being the creature he had been before. It was there still – always had been – but his soul still held reign over it.

Necronim shook his head then started down the steps when he heard the scrape of claws across wood. He reached for his daggers then one of the fallen bookshelves exploded upwards, the shattered form of what might have been an apprentice of the Archmage rising up. Feral glowing eyes stared hungrily at him and the broken male form cackled as it lurched forward, body even contorting now into something inhuman as he watched.

Then it froze and the twisted, heavily clawed right arm reached out to him, the disfigured face smiling at him.

"**Join us**," spoke the voice through its creature and Necronim glared as he tore his daggers from their sheaths.

"No," he replied stonily and the smile faded.

"**So be it.**"

Then the once human twisted by the new Plague leapt at him and Necronim met it in a blur of flashing blades before they both went tumbling down the stairs. They crashed through the railings at the second tier and tumbled straight down to the floor below, causing Kwaaku to turn even as he defended against the others of its ilk trying to get through the door.

"Nec!" bellowed the one-eyed Tauren as the rogue kicked the disfigured creature away. Necronim spared a glance in his direction as he rolled to his feet then had to turn his attention back to the ghoul, meeting its blows with his own. Somewhere in the tumble he had lost his daggers and fought with his hands, the bones at the tips of his fingers turning into claws.

"**Join us!**" demanded the voice again through the ghoul and he snarled into its face since he couldn't spit. "NEVER!" he roared back and felt a surge of strength rush through him.

Which he promptly used to rip off the ghoul's clawed right arm and shoved it back into its face. As it staggered back screaming, he heard Scyllaine's wail of outrage and Kalya's frightened shriek.

"SARAN!"

Necronim spun at that cry and his already dead heart felt like it crumbled to dust as he saw her gripped in the claws of a ghoul ready to descend hungry jaws down on her. She lashed out in a mix of fury and fear, the dagger he had given her scoring a line across its face. But it wasn't enough…and there was no help from Scyllaine, who was being overpowered, nor Kwaaku, who was doing all he could to keep the ghouls from flooding over them.

He knew what would happen if it bit her – she would disappear, lost underneath a monster that couldn't even be brought back to consciousness as he had. In response, something in him snapped. Fury roared through what was left of his veins and, unarmed, he leapt into the fray at the door with his fingers twisted into claws.

What happened after that was a blur but when Necronim came to he was swaying in the doorway, coated in the gore from the ghouls with their shredded corpses at his feet. He stared down at them, feeling sick in a stomach he no longer possessed, then staggered forward into the open outside. Into the grass he collapsed, screaming hoarsely as he started tearing at his gore coated leathers. They were just as they had been when he had come back to himself in a field in the Western Plaguelands and, just as then, he could not remember the moments from just before the slaughter.

When he finally was rid of everything but his ragged underclothes, he crawled away from the torn pile of torn leather and fled as far as he could get before he collapsed from exhaustion and terror. Ragged half-sobs wracked his body and if he but could, tears would have been flowing from his eyes.

It was not that they had once been just innocent humans and possibly the orcs of Valormok…it was that he had lost that precious space of time again. And he half feared that if he turned to look at that pile of bodies, he would find those of his companions amongst them.

But he felt her hands only moments after he collapsed and flinched away from the gentle touch with a hiss.

"No," he begged, eyes closed tight. "No, Kalya."

"Shh," she bid him, fingers kneading against his back. He stilled and leaned into the touch, sobbing weakly into the ground and not caring for a moment. "We're safe. You saved us, Saran."

Saved you? Thought Necronim. Did I really save you, Kalya? Did I really save you when I attacked them in the same way they attacked us? With teeth and fingers twisted into wicked, tearing claws? Was it rescue as I ripped them apart?

"I can still feel the blood," he murmured. Sitting up abruptly, he started scrubbing frantically at his face, screaming as his hands came away with gore. Kalya moved to touch him and he shoved her away, snarling, "_Don't_! Don't touch me!" She stared at him, hands still outstretched towards him, and he pushed himself back against the cliff wall, muttering constantly under his breath as he shook his head, a distant look in the glow of his eyes.

Kalya scooted slowly forward and strained her ears to hear him.

"Monster…monster…killer…Mother, Abi…I'm sorry…I'm sorry sorry sorry…"

"Kwaa!" she called desperately and the big Tauren loomed above them. After a moment he knelt down and placed his large hands on Necronim's thin shoulders, rumbling, "You are safe, Saran. Be at ease."

The distant eyes focused for a brief second and the rogue breathed, "Safe?"

"Safe," confirmed Kwaaku gently and then he caught Necronim as he slumped, carefully lowering him to the ground. Then he turned to take the blanket Scyllaine had brought from their packs and laid it down, lifting him a moment later to rest on it.

"What happened to him?" demanded Kayla in a hiss at his elbow. "Kwaa? He mentioned his mother and someone called 'Abi', telling them he was sorry, after he called himself a monster. And a killer."

Kwaaku looked at her gently then murmured, "He was, Kalya. Did you not hear him when he said he was raised in the halls of SI:7?"

"That doesn't mean he was a killer!"

"Most times that is exactly what it means. But you are correct, he was not a killer at first." The one-eyed Tauren lowered his head then, muttering, "He would not wish me to tell you this…but I am anyway. Abi was his younger sister and a sickly child; when she began to get worse and they did not have the coin to pay for any sort of healer, that was when he began to steal for it. It was an accident that the first died then the second happened and the third…after that, he was too desperate to stop."

"As to what just occurred in his attack," continued Kwaaku in a slow rumble, "the soul's of the Forsaken were restored but did not take the place of the monster that had been there. They overpower it and sometimes, at moments of great stress, they fall back onto that monster. He was returned to himself in the midst of Scourge ghouls and instantly fell back onto that monster in order to survive. But no one, _no one_, can fault him for that."

Kalya blinked then gasped, "You – you mean for one moment he was…"

Scyllaine made a noise in her throat, shaking her head. She started to make motions with her hands then grunted and pulled something out of a pouch at her belt – paper and a piece of thick charcoal, Kalya saw. For a moment the Forsaken scribbled on it then handed it to her with a gentle smile.

'_We still have it within us, that beast_,' she had written. '_When we fall back onto it, we do not become it in truth. We reach for its strength and its resilience and its lack of fear when we are afraid. A survival instinct, if anything else.'_

Kalya nodded and smiled up at her, the Forsaken woman returning it tentatively. "I understand," murmured the young woman. "But, Kwaa, his reaction…"

"He hates that part of himself," rumbled the Tauren. "And he has always been afraid of returning to that creature he once was."

"He's done this before?"

Kwaaku bowed his head, nodding slowly as he looked mournfully towards his friend. "Once," he said softly. "We were in the Hinterlands helping a friend attempt to find some kin of his he had heard rumor of. After we failed to find them, a group of passing Night Elves spotted us – the druid apparently had a particular hatred of Forsaken and High Elves and provoked the others to attack. I killed one then was trapped by the druid's called vines, unable to move as two of the others struck killing blows at me. Hresden was kiting one of them away from us so Nec threw himself between their blades and me, taking the blows himself."

He closed his one working eye as he finished, "I watched him recede from the pain and it take over. It…it was something I never hoped to see happen again."

Scyllaine laid a hand on his shoulder gently and he smiled, raising his to cover hers briefly.

"I have no issue with what he did," rumbled Kwaaku reassuringly. "Him letting it go saved us. The druid was so shocked when he turned with the gaping wounds in his body and lunged at the other two that he lost control of his spell. I was able to strike him down and Hresden returned just as Nec recovered."

Kalya nodded slowly, looking mournfully towards Necronim, wincing at the tremors running through him even though he was unconscious.

"What now?" she asked.

The big Tauren snorted, replying, "We get away from this cursed tower firstly. Scyllaine, were we here to speak to the mage only?" At her nod, he cursed softly then sighed. "Very well then. We will move down the hill from here, away from the stench, and make camp. Then I will come and bury the dead – they deserve that at the very least."

Scyllaine made a sound of agreement in her throat then moved towards Necronim's abandoned leathers, carefully gathering them up in her arms. She then started down the hill to where they had left their wolves before climbing upwards and Kalya followed her nervously. Over her shoulder she glanced once, to see Kwaaku wrapping the blanket around Necronim and lifting him up easily in his arms then plodding after them.

Then, shaking, she folded her fingers around the dagger he had handed her and showed her the beginnings of how to use. She trusted him, this bitter Forsaken rogue…loved him even. But she had seen him up close as that other him took over, watched the glow of his eyes dim until they were pale, fiery points at the back of his eye sockets. He had stood protectively above her, body shielding hers as he tore through the ghoul's with an ease that was terrifying, and she had realized why the Lich King's army had been so feared. Why the Forsaken were feared so.

If they were this powerful before regaining themselves, imagine what they might do if they knew how to harness that power and wield it.

Kalya shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment as she drew in a shaky breath. She did love him and wouldn't abandon him but now there was a tremor of fear within her; a fear _of_ him, not for him.


	13. Scrambling to Recover

Necronim came to consciousness slowly, trying desperately to cling to it as his sister had done to their mother's skirts. He paused then, thinking of her, as he had not done in so long – not since those first few months when he had tried to kill himself after he regained control of his body.

"Abi," he murmured, his heart aching. She had been only seven years old, fourteen years younger than him when he had been caught and arrested, thrown into the Deeps to rot after being branded. If she had lived she would have been nineteen now…

Instead he had failed her and his mother as well as shamed the men and women of SI:7 that had raised him because his mother could not afford to.

Was that why he had been cursed to this unlife?

There was a garbled noise from above him then, cutting off his line of thought, and he opened one eye to find Scyllaine leaned over him, her face close to his. She smiled and patted his forehead gently with her hand, the gray-green of her wasted flesh making him think painfully of the ghoul's, and gabbled nonsense noises again. He didn't know exactly what she was saying but he had been around her long enough to figure out the sounds of her voice to know the emotion in them.

"Don't worry, Scy," he muttered, "I'm alright."

She cocked her head, leaning back a little, and her expression told him that she did not believe that for one moment. And that was good, because he didn't believe that either.

"Okay," he admitted painfully, "I'm not. But that doesn't matter."

Scyllaine grunted, a low noise no woman should be able to make, and gave a slight shove with the heel of her hand into his chest. He bit down a scream at the pain that ripped through what was left of his nerves, writhing away from her hand. She followed him, leaning close down over him, and stared hard at him.

"Rrrrnotch arrrriht," she managed to force out through her ruined throat. He gave her a sad smile and reached up to grasp her chain mail coated arm.

"No, I'm not alright," he agreed. "But I can't let this little thing stop me, Scy. I _have_ to know who's doing this. Because he – or she – is trying their damnedest to get me under their control and probably you as well even if you don't know it."

She blinked at that, sinking back into a cross-legged seat beside him. Then she leaned off to the side and scraped something against a rock with one of the pieces of charcoal she always carried. Necronim glanced at her scrawl of 'Army?' across the rock and nodded slowly, allowing it to sink in. She snarled in response and scribbled, 'We'll stop it' and he grasped her other hand.

"I know." Glancing towards the fire, he saw a sleeping shape wrapped in blankets but none of a Tauren's great bulk. "Where is Kwaaku?"

'Burials' scrawled Scyllaine then she tucked the charcoal back into a pouch at her belt. She then glanced towards Kalya's sleeping form and made a noise in the back of her throat before pointing between them and making a cringing motion away from him. He closed his eyes in pain and nodded, mumbling, "I figured as much. She's right to fear me, Scy. Maybe…maybe a little fear is what she needs to let me go."

The warrior gave him a little shrug then flipped one hand through a few motions. He grunted in response, waving her off with, "I don't care if she's happy loving me, I can't give her a damned thing."

Scyllaine shrugged again then stiffened briefly before relaxing as Kwaaku appeared out of the dark into the light of the fire. The big Tauren brushed thick clods of dirt from his hands then smiled as he saw the rogue was awake.

"Good to see you, Nec," he rumbled as he walked over. He moved lightly for such a huge creature with hooves that could crush a wolf's skull in and did not wake Kalya in his passage. "I buried them."

"You buried ghoul's?" snarled Necronim. "They don't deserve the respect of such."

Kwaaku gave him a mournful look at that. "But the being's they once were do," he said softly.

Wincing, he acceded to the correctness of that comment with a slight nod. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just…I'm used to hating them and thinking of them as nothing but ravenous beasts. Its hard to see beyond that to think of who they may have once been."

"Understandable."

The Tauren then crouched down and said, "Nec…you spoke of your mother and sister earlier."

Necronim flinched at that, visibly drawing in on himself as old guilt raised its head again. Then he glanced at Kalya, wondering how she had taken that. And…by the Light, what had Kwaa told her?

"Kwaa," he growled slowly, glaring.

"I could not leave her with no explanation," answered Kwaaku mournfully. "She had just seen you fall back onto that creature and then have a panic attack at the sight of the gore. She needed to know _something_."

"Not that!" spat Necronim. "Damn you, Kwaa, you had no right! Just as Sylvanas had no right by trying to drag information out of me! My past is _mine_ to tell, damnit!"

"And when would you have told her, hmm?"

The question was like a slap in the face and his anger evaporated in the wake of it. Drawing in on himself again, the rogue muttered, "I would have." Even as he said it he winced because he knew deep down that he wouldn't have. What he had done to his mother and sister were his own personal burdens in his opinion and only he needed to carry the weight of them.

"Exactly," rumbled Kwaaku. He then sighed, adding, "Nec, you must trust someone besides me someday."

"I trust her fine, Kwaa," spat Necronim. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the fire, and finished, "I just…I just don't want her to know some of the things I've done."

"She knows some."

"I don't want her to know I came to _enjoy_ killing people," growled the rogue, curling up underneath the blanket thrown over him. "That I allowed my sister to _die_. I didn't have to be taken by the Plague to be a monster, Kwaa…I was well on the path to be one before even then."

"Nec…"

"Please. Please, leave me alone."

A grunt answered that then he heard Kwaaku get up and move back towards the fire. Scyllaine followed but her fingers gently brushed his shoulder before she fully moved away, he flinching away from the touch.

Sighing heavily, Necronim closed his eyes and did his best to clear his mind. Weariness crept up moments later and he drifted off into blessed unconsciousness again.

This time, he welcomed it.

Though it seemed only moments later that it was shattered. Scyllaine's scream startled him upright and he twisted around to see one of the three pale riders from earlier crouched over a still sleeping Kalya, a knife in hand. It turned and smiled at him before reaching out to slash away a portion of her hair with the blade, tucking it away somewhere on its person.

Necronim scrambled upright with a roar, lunging across the distance at the pale rider, but was tossed aside easily. The pale, red-eyed wraith landed on top of him a moment later, holding him down, and pressed the blade of the knife against his throat.

"Be still, brother," it hissed. "This blow will not kill you if I strike but it would hurt very much."

He stilled and just lifted a hand to ward off Kwaaku and Scyllaine, who were standing at the ready. The big Tauren grunted, fists clenching around his fighting claws, then carefully pulled a now awake Kalya behind him.

"Nec," he growled.

"Stay," bade the wraith. "I speak with him, not you, beast."

Necronim stared hard at Kwaaku, willing him not to move, then growled at the figure above him, "What do you want?"

The wraith turned its attention back to him and smiled coldly.

"Our master had hoped you would come around, brother," it replied. "You are different…like us."

"I am _nothing_ like you," spat the Forsaken.

It laughed hoarsely at that then leaned close to his face, purring, "Did you think we were human first, brother? No, no…we were _Forsaken_."

Necronim's eyes widened at that and the wraith continued, "This is what you could expect by joining us." Lifting a hand, it let him stare at the clear, unbroken skin – so different from his hands with the bones showing almost entirely. "It is so much better than this existence you insist on holding onto. This…half life."

"Saran, no," hissed Kalya, peering around Kwaaku with her blanket clutched tightly around her. The wraith twisted around to look at her then grinned down at Necronim.

"Such a beautiful woman," he said softly. "Alas, brother, it is not to be."

"You touch her and I'll…"

"You'll what, brother? Kill me? You don't have the power – not as you are at least." The wraith leaned forward to his ear and whispered, "Your kind are nothing to me and mine. If you would just give in to the master…"

Necronim snarled and spat, "Never!"

"Well then, brother, you shall have to be punished. And – alas – your beautiful woman shall have to suffer with you as according to the master's plans."

"Don't you touch her!"

It laughed and tried to cup his cheek but he twitched away, forgetting the knife at his throat. The blade dug into his skin, causing a trail of black blood to flow downward into the grass, but he didn't really seem to notice. Necronim lunged upward with one hand and grabbed at the wraith's throat, fingers twisting into claws as he snarled animally.

"_You don't touch her_," he spat.

The wraith smiled and casually lifted its hand, easily tugging his away from its throat. Then it leaned down, purring, "We don't need to _touch_ her for what we wish to do, brother. I would suggest you give up this foolish quest of yours. You can't hope to beat us."

It then rose, grinned down at him, then dashed off into the darkness. Kwaaku started to charge after it but Necronim sat up, shouting, "Kwaa, no! Leave him!" The big Tauren skidded to a halt and turned to stare at him, the rogue explaining quickly, "You aren't going to catch him anyway. Leave it be."

"Are you alright?!" exclaimed Kalya as she rushed to his side, falling to her knees. He felt her hands at his throat and she breathed, "Oh Light, you're bleeding…"

"I'm fine," protested Necronim, waving her off. He stared past her after the wraith then looked down at his hands for a long moment before he snarled, "Bastard!"

"Nec, _please_," begged Kalya, leaning forward to press one corner of her blanket against his throat. He shifted his gaze to her and wilted instantly at the panic in her eyes, nodding briefly. As she tore strips from her blanket and wiped away the dark ichor, making a pad of bits of it and binding it over the gash until it could heal, he closed his eyes and took comfort in her touch.

Then his eyes flew open and he reached up to her hair – to where the pale wraith had sliced away a lock of it. Her hand lifted to touch his and she breathed, "He took my hair. Why?"

He scowled, replying, "I don't know. But I fully intend to find out why and…" At her sudden look of horror he paused and asked, "Kalya?"

She shook her head and reached out to his face…no, he realized, to his own hair. And when she pulled a fistful of it forward, he saw there was a ragged gash in it as well.

"Scy! Kwaa!" he barked. "Did he take hair from either of you?"

"No," rumbled the Tauren.

Scyllaine shook her head and Necronim cursed, rising quickly to his feet. He reached for the carefully cleaned leathers folded next to the place where he'd been lying and quickly began tugging them on, ignoring the aches beginning to come back. As he buckled his belt and started tugging his tunic over his head, he hissed, "What are you three waiting on? Get ready! We have to go."

"Go where?" asked Kalya. She pulled her blanket around her again and his gaze was drawn to the corner that was still stained with his dark blood.

"I don't know!" he snapped back. Then he sighed and clutched a hand at his hair, hissing, "Why would they take our hair? And what punishment was he talking about?"

Kwaaku snorted and asked, "What of what he said?"

"Which?" demanded Necronim as he picked up the heavy leather kodohide vest Caren had made for him, snapping the ties together quickly across his chest.

"That he and those others we saw were once Forsaken, not human as we thought."

"We were all once human!"

The Tauren frowned at that. "You know what I meant, Nec," he rumbled softly.

The rogue snarled and spun towards him, exclaiming, "I don't know, Kwaa! It…it doesn't make any sense – not anything of what he said! Who is their master? Why do they want _me_ of all people?! And why did they take hair from Kalya and me?"

Scyllaine gabbled then held up a scrap of parchment with 'A spell?' scrawled across it. Kwaaku narrowed his eyes as Kalya gasped then looked towards Necronim. "It could be," he rumbled.

Necronim stared hard at the words then growled, "I don't want to think about it."

"Nec…"

"No, Kwaa!"

"_Saran_," growled Kwaaku, stomping a hoof sharply against the ground, "listen to me. We _must_ find out what sort of spell they plot. For Kalya's sake!"

"And how do you plan to succeed in such a task?" snapped the Forsaken, ignoring the use of his real name.

The Tauren sighed before replying calmly, "We find Hresden and ask him if he knows of anything. He was taught in Quel'thalas and Theramore, if you recall, before he came to the Horde. So we might know a spell of this sort."

Necronim scowled then nodded sharply.

"Fine," he hissed, "we'll go to him. I know his sister tends to camp in Mulgore around this time of the year – we can ask her were he is."

With that he turned and scooped up the rest of his gear, kicking his way through the bushes towards the spot where their wolves were tied up. Scyllaine sighed heavily then continued to pack up their campsite as Kalya turned to look up at Kwaaku.

"Who is Hresden?" she asked. "You mentioned him before and I forgot to ask."

"A High Elf who came to Orgrimmar when his elder sister fell to their magic addiction, becoming a Blood Elf," replied the Tauren. "He has traveled with us a few times over the years and is a good friend. If it weren't for the situation, Nec would be glad to have him along again."

"They are good friends?"

"They understand each other in a strange way," answered Kwaaku with a chuckle. He then smiled, adding, "Now get ready. We should be ready to ride out soon."

"I thought we wouldn't ride in the dark," said Kalya as she folded the blanket and picked up her leather tunic where it had been folded up as a pillow.

Kwaaku sighed heavily and glanced towards where the wraith had disappeared into the darkness, his single eye weary.

"Things have changed," he rumbled. "Things have changed a great deal, I am afraid."


	14. The Search Begins

Scyllaine gabbled excitedly as she crested one of the green hills of the Golden Plains ahead of the rest of the group. Her hands flew in her personal language as Necronim looked up at her and he smiled as he said, "She's spotted her."

"How do you know?" asked Kalya.

"I only know one Blood Elf that would sleep so casually in a tree," replied the rogue. "Well, besides her brother but Hresden is a creature all his own."

He urged his wolf ahead of them to the top of the hill and nodded, confirming, "That's her. Good eyes, Scy."

The warrior smiled at the comment and clapped his shoulder warmly before she started trekking towards the sleeping figure in the tree. Necronim followed her quickly, leaving a nervous Kalya to bring up the back of the group with Kwaaku at her side.

As they got closer, Necronim lifted his hands to cup around his mouth and shouted, "_Bal'a dash, malanore!_" The figure in the tree was startled upright at the shout then swung down, bounding swiftly towards the rogue. As it approached, Kalya saw the clear traces of age in her as one could sometimes see with older Elves but she was still beautiful. Behind a swath of short flame-red hair, fel green eyes glowed and then a gauntleted hand swept it back to scowl at Necronim as he swung down from his wolf's back.

"You still speak the tongue horribly," she commented, her voice cool but with a note of humor underneath. "But still…_sinu a'manore_, Necronim."

The rogue shrugged, replying, "_Sinu a'manore_, Lymalis. And I haven't had much cause to practice much more than your brother taught me."

"A fair enough reason," said the Elf. She then focused on Kalya and cocked her head to the side. "A human? You are taking stranger and stranger traveling companions." Lymalis then shifted her attention back to him and asked, "So what brings you here, Necronim? You do know I don't go anywhere at this time of year."

He held up a hand, saying, "I am well aware, Lymalis. We're actually looking for your brother."

"Hresden?"

"Yes, unless you have some other brother I don't know about," jibed the rogue.

The huntress snorted then said, "My little brother is a fickle creature…you should know that better than anyone, Necronim. He could be anywhere from Mount Hyjal to Netherstorm."

"And yet you always know where he is."

Lymalis smiled and nodded. Then she looked at the three ranged behind him again and sobered, asking, "What is this about, Necronim? What are you planning to drag Hresden into?"

Necronim smiled tightly as this was now the mother in her speaking and not the sister. Lymalis was liable to switch between the two at any moment in regard to her younger brother since she had raised him since birth and was more mother than sister to him.

Slowly he replied, "We have need to ask him about a spell possibility. You _have_ heard of the problems with the Undercity, yes?"

"Everyone has by now," she replied, standing stiffly suddenly. "You, her, and a few others - including Ranger-General Sylvanas."

"Ranger-General?" queried Kalya, looking confused.

Lymalis smiled gently at her despite the interruption.

"Her old title before she became the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. I knew her as that in Quel'thalas before it fell and for those memories I still call her the same." She then turned back to Necronim and asked, "What of the matter there? Don't tell me you're investigating it?"

At his silence, her glowing eyes widened and she leaned down slightly so her face was level with his.

"Necronim…they trusted you with this?"

"I broke out of the Deeps of Stormwind," snarled the rogue. "I broke back in and rescued a woman. I survived through the fall of the Undercity and nearly all the rest of my kind. Myself, Scyllaine here, Sylvanas, her guards, and a mage by the name of Resden, are seemingly all left of the Forsaken. Who _else_ would they send?"

"The rest?" she queried.

"Scourge."

Lymalis paled underneath her sun-darkened skin at that and leaned back, fingers tapping against her lips. She stared hard toward the horizon where the heights of Thunder Bluff towered then breathed out one sentence.

"Do they chase you?"

"We've tangled with them once – with ghoul's and some strange new creature. But I don't think they chase us." Necronim reached out to touch her arm, drawing her gaze to him, and hissed, "I will not let any harm come to him, Lymalis. You know that."

She frowned then nodded, saying, "I do trust you, friend." Sighing heavily, she continued, "Hres should be in Winterspring. He's been working with the furbolg's of Timbermaw Hold this past year."

Necronim smiled as Kwaaku bowed, rumbling, "Our thanks, milady."

"I'm no lady, noble Tauren," she intoned. "Now shoo and let me get back to my sleep. And…"

"And…?"

Lymalis leaned forward, grasping the rogue's leather vest, and growled, "You protect my brother with your life, Necronim. He's all I have left."

"You have my word," he swore and meant it.

"Good," she hissed, letting go. Leaning back, she smiled at them all then said, "_Al diel shala_."

"_Anu belore dela'na_," murmured Necronim, bowing his head. He then smiled and added, "At least, I hope it does."

"One can only hope it will," said Lymalis as he swung back up onto his wolf's back. "I would suggest looking for Hres around the entrance to the Hold tunnels or in Everlook. Be safe…I would come with you but you know why I stay out here during this time."

"I know," he said. "Thank you."

She smiled then stepped back, Necronim snapping his mount's reins to send it charging away. The rest of the group charged after him and Kalya urged her wolf up next to his.

"Why does she stay out here?" she asked curiously over the panting of their mounts.

He frowned then replied, "She is a Blood Elf, _Sin'dorei_ as they say, and therefore prone to the thirst for magic more than her brother. Though unlike most, she tries to meditate the urge away as she once did and does manage to do so for the most part. But eventually the strain catches up with her and she flees here, draining away dregs of magic from the creatures out here where she can do no harm to those around her."

Kalya gaped for a moment then breathed, "That's so sad."

Necronim shrugged nonchalantly at that, frowning at the path ahead of them.

"It is a far better existence than some."

"Saran…"

"There are worse things to be than what I am, however," he said. Smiling sideways at her, he added, "I'm fine, Kalya."

"No, you're not," she said back. "You're worried. About what they might do to us."

Necronim frowned and reached out to touch her hand, not caring anymore about trying to pretend there weren't feelings between them. With this…they were trapped together in something bigger than themselves. And they should have some small happiness if anything else.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he promised softly.

Kalya smiled and leaned over in her saddle to kiss his pallid cheek. Then a tear ran down her face as she murmured, "You can't protect me against everything, Saran."

Necronim clenched his jaw and glared ahead of them as they continued to ride towards Thunder Bluff.

"I'll damn well try," he snarled. "You can be assured of that."

**Thalassian Translations**

_Bal'a dash, malanore – Greetings, traveler_

_Sinu a'manore – Well met_

_Al diel shala – Safe travels_

_Anu belore dela'na – The sun guides us_


	15. Collapse

Kalya shivered within the heavy furs she'd been given after they passed back through Orgrimmar on the way to Winterspring and asked, "Is it always like this here?"

"Indeed it is," rumbled Kwaaku in response, who wore the fur of some great bear across his shoulders now. "Hence the name Winterspring, as winter simply seems to spring up from here and remain."

Necronim grunted and hunched further down in his saddle ahead of them, huddling into a fur Kalya had given him after he had started shivering. "Winter," he grumbled, "ought to only come once a year in my opinion. It's not right for it to always be here."

He then leaned forward to shout ahead of them, "And it's not right for you to enjoy it this much!"

Scyllaine giggled back at him from where she had rode ahead and raised her arms to the sky, opening her mouth to catch snowflakes as they fell. Where Necronim could still sense intense pain and feelings, Scyllaine was immune to such things as much as her throat was produce sounds to speak anymore.

The rogue grunted then sat up sharply as the outline of a cave rose up ahead of them. Kalya gasped as the bear-shaped entrance loomed up then shrieked as something equally bear-like lumbered forward with a growl.

It twisted towards her, eyes narrowed, then turned to Necronim, growling in its own language. He leaned down, saying, "Peace, Salfa. We're only here seeking a mage, not to pass through."

The furbolg cocked its head to the side then said, "Hresden? This is who you seek?"

"He is," confirmed Necronim.

Salfa nodded, saying, "I will get him. You must stay."

"Why must we stay?" asked Kalya curiously, warily eyeing the furbolg as he lumbered off into the cave.

Kwaaku rumbled a chuckle and replied, "We are not friends of the Timbermaw as Hresden seems to have become. They only allow those who are friends to entire their holdings…I am truly surprised he even spoke to us."

"I've dealt with them a few times before," said Necronim. "They're fair enough folk when you…"

"_Bal'a dash, malanore!_"

Kalya had to blink twice at the figure that had appeared in the mouth of the cave. The elf was tall – but shorter than his sister – with short brown hair that spiked back from his face and wearing a simple pair of pants with a pale sleeveless shirt and well-worn boots. His eyes lacked the fel glow of his sibling's and were a pale green that shone with arcane power out of his tanned face. He moved forward across the ground with an ease she didn't think a mage could have and clasped Necronim's outreached hand at the wrist.

"It's good to see you, friend," he said warmly. "But what brings you all the way out here to see me? You hate the cold!"

"We're on a mission of sorts," replied the rogue. He frowned then asked, "You haven't been in town in a while, have you?"

Hresden shook his head, as he said, "Not for four months or so. I have a little sleeping spot in the Hold and the furbolg are nice enough company once you get to know them. Why?"

Necronim quickly explained the situation with the Undercity then went into the details of the wraith and the spell they suspected its master was concocting. Hresden frowned through the entire thing, fingers stroking his chin and the minute growth on it, then closed his eyes wearily.

"This is…this is bad," he muttered. Sighing, he looked up at Necronim and stated, "You have gotten yourself into a heap of trouble, my friend."

"Can you help?" asked Kalya, almost fearing he wasn't going to.

Hresden smiled at her in response then nodded, saying, "Oh, yes, I'll help. What else could I do for my good friend?" He glanced behind him at the Hold then ran a hand back through his hair before adding, "Give me a moment to gather my stuff up, say goodbye's, and figure out where Corain went off to."

Necronim nodded then blinked as Kalya leaned over after the mage turned to retreat back into the tunnels.

"He has muscles," she breathed. "And didn't seem to notice the cold at all. He isn't like any sort of mage I've ever seen!"

"Hresden is a creature all his own, as I said," he replied, cocking his head towards her. "He is…not quite what his contemporaries would think of as a mage. Mostly as he spent what of his childhood and youth he didn't spend in arcane studies, following his sister around in the wild and learning from her. He knows how to track, how to use a blade just as well as her or any warrior, how to string a bow, and several other things to survive in the wilds. And that too is a reason for him to be used to the cold besides the year spent here."

Kalya frowned then nodded, smiling slightly. He blinked at her and asked, "What?"

"Lymalis was right; you _do_ keep strange company."

Necronim snorted but smiled as Kwaaku laughed mightily followed by Scyllaine's quiet, hoarse giggle. He then swung down from his wolf's back as Hresden reappeared, now wearing a tunic and heavy cloak with the hood pulled up, and took one of the two bags he was carrying. The High Elf smiled then whistled, looking around before he called out, "Corain! Corain, you old bag of bones, pull yourself together!"

"Wha…_ohmy!_"

Kalya gasped as the snow nearby shifted then a shape rose up out of it, bones crusted with ice forming together into the shape of a horse. Yellow eyes glowed from within its skull and Hresden swung the bag he still held onto his shoulder and he stepped forward towards the horse. Warmth surrounded all of them suddenly and they all gasped as the snow melted around them as the ice flowed off the bones of the horse. It let loose with its strange, echoing whinny and thrust its bony head into Hresden's outstretched hands, he smiling as he murmured, "There you are, old girl. Salfa, you still have her saddle?"

The furbolg grunted in response then hefted up the leather saddle and a ragged blanket with a bridle slung across it. Hresden took it with a smile and a growl in which might've been Salfa's language and easily settled it into place onto the bony back, securing it and the two bags in place with quick motions. Then he turned to Necronim and said, "We can ride to Everlook and see about getting…wait, how did you four get here if not through the Hold?"

"A very unknown path from Azshara," replied Necronim with a smile. "One I learned from SI:7."

"Ah, one of _those_. Is that the way you plan to head back?"

"That was the plan." The rogue shrugged then asked, "What were you saying?"

"We could see about getting some help in Everlook but we'll likely have to head to Orgrimmar for anything for this spell they're concocting." Hresden frowned then swung up onto his horse's back with a sound of rattling bones. He sighed as he added, "I might even have to make a trip to Silvermoon or, all forbid, somehow manage to make my way into Theramore. Which that, my friends, will be ever so exciting."

Necronim smiled as he got back up onto his wolf's back, saying, "I'm sure you'll find some way in, Hres. By the way, this is Kalya and Scyllaine, so as we have introductions."

The elf bowed slightly in his saddle with a, "A pleasure to meet you fair ladies. Though strange that you travel with a human, Nec."

"Yet in our travels together, most have called you a stranger companion than her," shot back the rogue with a wry grin.

"They just don't understand eccentricity."

Necronim just smiled and said, "Ah, I have missed having you around, whelp."

"Whelp?" repeated the elf, one dark eyebrow twitching. "Boy, don't make me take you over my knee!"

"I'd like to see you try."

"Watch me!"

"Um," muttered Kalya, leaning towards Kwaaku as the two continued on. "Are they always like this?"

The big Tauren shrugged but smiled at the arguing pair that had slowly stared moving down the road towards Everlook.

"Always," he rumbled in amusement. Kalya took another look at them then and found herself smiling as well as the pair continued playfully arguing. It was probably the liveliest she had ever seen Necronim before, one hand almost constantly in motion to either point at the High Elf or to illustrate something.

"Its nice to see him like…" She trailed off in mid-sentence and gaped at the air, one hand lifting towards her stomach. "Ohhh…"

"Kalya?" murmured Kwaaku, shifting worriedly towards her.

"I don't…I don't feel well…"

"Kwaaku!" came Hresden's concerned cry then as Necronim abruptly slumped over in his saddle with a groan. His eyes fell on Kalya then hardened from terror to determination as he snapped, "Get them down on the ground now! Scyllaine, blankets for them, please!"

The female Forsaken made a trilling noise in response and leapt down, tugging blankets from packs and spreading them out quickly off to the side of the roadway. Kwaaku gently lifted Kalya from her saddle, carrying her easily over to the blankets, then turned back to go after Necronim but Hresden was already on that. The mage had the Forsaken's arm slung across his shoulders and was half-carrying, half-dragging him over with his teeth bared. With the Tauren's help as he got close, they lowered the rogue to the pile of blankets next to the young woman.

"He's heavier than he looks," mumbled Hresden. He then crouched down next to Kalya and asked, "Where does it hurt?"

"Stomach," she groaned, hands pressing down on the spot as if it would stop the pain.

"Nec?" demanded the mage, glancing towards the rogue.

Necronim grunted, bony fingers grasping at the blankets underneath him, and growled, "Same. Hres…"

"This is likely the spell you were suspecting," hissed the mage. "Damn!" He then frowned, the tips of his ears twitching, and leaned over Kalya. "Let me see. Girl…Kalya…please move your hands."

She complied slowly and Hresden carefully pushed aside the furs to show her tunic underneath. Unbuttoning the bottom two buttons, he pushed it and the shirt underneath it up slightly and let out a hiss of disgust in response.

"Earth Mother save us," breathed Kwaaku. He stared at the patch of pallid gray flesh across her stomach then glanced towards Necronim with fear in his sole eye. Hresden was already moving around to the rogue, fingers flying at the ties on his vest and tugging it and the tunic underneath up.

Identical to the spot on Kalya's stomach was a patch of smooth, pale, _human_ skin across Necronim's. The rogue shifted upright at the gasp from Scyllaine and stared down at the spot, his jaw falling slack at the sight. Then he switched his eyes over to Kalya and came snarling upright, almost sending Hresden crashing backwards into a snow bank.

"No!" he snarled as he clasped a hand over the patch of pallid flesh – _his flesh_ – on her stomach. "No, damnit! _NO!_"

"Nec," rumbled Kwaaku, leaning forward.

Necronim whirled on him, shouting, "She doesn't deserve this, Kwaa! Not this damned existence!"

"We know," breathed Hresden, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nec, I'm going to do everything in my power to reverse this…this horror of a spell. I'll ride to Dalaran itself and demand entry if I have to." His pale eyes glowed as bright as his sister's for a moment with power and he growled, "I swear to you on my life that I will find a way to break this!"

"Thank you," breathed Necronim, his gaze never wavering from Kalya's face as she looked up at him in fear. Her hand had joined his across her stomach and she could feel the cold flesh there as easily as he could feel the warmth across his own. He leaned forward and hissed, "We'll find a way to stop this. I _promise_."

"I trust you," she breathed with sudden tears in her eyes as she squeezed his fingers. Then she broke out in a full sob and sat up, flinging her arms around him as she started crying into his chest. He enfolded her willingly in his arms and hugged her tightly, closing his eyes as he leaned his cheek against her hair.

Around him he heard Hresden muttering to himself as Scyllaine and Kwaaku began to settle their mounts and make camp for the night, as they weren't about to be moving now. But all of Necronim's focus was on the young woman in his arms who had only felt compassion for a Forsaken and an injured Tauren so many years ago.

A woman who had suffered for her compassion.

A woman who loved him despite everything that told her she shouldn't.

A woman now suffering because of him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rocking her gently and not knowing if she heard through her fear and pain. Still he held her and tried to comfort her and whispered it again and again.

"I'm sorry, Kalya."

"_I'm sorry._"


	16. A Return in Shambles

**Chapter 16**

"Are you certain we can find a way to reverse this?" asked Kwaaku softly to Hresden as the group let their mounts amble towards Orgrimmar from the Ashenvale border. The elf's ears twitched and he twisted his head around to glance at the pair riding solemnly at the back of the group.

Kalya's normal cheerfulness had evaporated entirely after the strike of the spell in Winterspring, which made the spirits of the entire party drop. Necronim had turned to brooding in response to him being unable to do anything at all to comfort the girl.

And all through the ride across Azshara back to Orgrimmar, the spell had spread. On both of them now was a swath of changed flesh that started at their stomachs and traveled up their left sides across the back to the shoulder.

"I_will_ find a way," snarled Hresden. "Even if I have to find this bastard doing this to them and wring the spell out of him!" He then rose in his saddle slightly and waved to the two guards at the back gate, who saluted in return. With a nod, he turned to the Tauren, saying, "I'm going to ride ahead and find a few to consult. I assume you all will go to see the Warchief?"

Kwaaku nodded and Hresden continued, "I'll see you there then. Hah!" With a flick of his reins, the undead horse surged forward and galloped across the bridge into Orgrimmar with a clatter of hooves. Necronim glanced up at the sound and asked, "Where…"

"He is going to find those to ask what can be done," replied the Tauren. He paused and nodded slightly towards the spot at the rogue's shoulder where his tunic had slipped back to reveal a slight patch where tanned skin showed. "Nec, it's showing."

Necronim grunted and tugged cloth and leather over the spot, sinking further down in his saddle. Then he turned worriedly to look at Scyllaine as she made a choking noise and peered at her. Since Azshara, she had been acting strangely on and off and had not yet explained to him why.

"Scy?" he queried.

She looked at him and he saw the fear in her eyes easily. One hand shifted slightly and he winced at what it might mean once they reached Grommash Hold to speak with the Warchief again. Reaching out, he took her hand and murmured, "Don't worry. I won't let you hurt anyone."

Kwaaku turned in fear as they entered the Valley of Spirits and even Kalya lifted her head. The young woman's face shifted to worry and she murmured, "Oh, Light, Scyllaine…"

"You are certain?" asked the Tauren, remembering what had been said when Necronim had first been dragged before the Warchief.

The Forsaken woman nodded in response then looked desperately at the rogue, gabbling in fear, and he leaned towards her. "I am _not_ going to let you hurt anyone, Scy. And I am not going to let anyone hurt you, either. I promise."

She managed to smile at him through the fear then let go of his hand, patting it before she gripped to her saddle tightly. Necronim watched her carefully as they continued on then walked beside her as they dismounted in front of the Hold and began walking within. When she started to shake, Kwaaku loomed up behind her but only Necronim lightly touched her as the kept walking.

Scyllaine turned desperately towards the rogue as they heard Sylvanas' voice and he stared back at her as her hands fumbled for his. She made a noise in her throat, alerting the guards around them and they moved forward with hands reaching for their weapons. Necronim looked at them, begging them not to interfere just yet, then shifted his attention back to Scyllaine.

Kwaaku gently laid his hands on her shaking shoulders and she sobbed, drawing the attention of the two leaders now. Sylvanas drew herself up straight and demanded, "What is going on? You, rogue, I…"

"Do not demand anything of me, _Quel'dorei_," snarled Necronim. He twisted his head around to glare at her, hands still gripping Scyllaine's. "Banshee Queen you may be but you are not _my_ queen. And you have done _nothing_ to stop this!"

Scyllaine gasped then sagged forward against Necronim, who stiffened. Kwaaku tugged her back quickly and, as he did, she snarled back to life and tried to tear across the room towards Sylvanas. The big Tauren struggled to shove her to the ground and the Forsaken lunged for her, shouting at the guards, "Get her down, down!"

"Do not harm her!" bellowed Thrall even as Sylvanas protested, "She is gone!"

"Don't you dare try to hurt her!" shrieked Kalya, taking a step forward angrily around the group struggling to hold Scyllaine down. "Don't you dare!"

The Banshee Queen stiffened then snarled, "What makes you think you can command _me_, little girl?"

"Someone has to stand up to you!"

"Wretched little…"

"_SILENCE!_" bellowed Thrall. He glared at Sylvanas as he snapped, "Be quiet, both of you. Stormhorn, Necronim, kindly move away and allow my guards to take her. I promise you that she will not be harmed."

Kwaaku grunted then nodded to the guards around him as he was the one mostly keeping Scyllaine still. The orcs grunted then surged forward and the big Tauren moved back, them together managing to get a good hold on the Forsaken woman. They tugged her upright, arms wrenched behind her to be bound with one holding her neck tightly to keep her from biting any of them, and Necronim stood in front of her. He stared into her eyes gone feral for a long moment then said softly, "I'll keep my promise, Scy." As she snarled back, he turned away as the guards wrestled her out of the Hold and strode forward to where Sylvanas stood, marching right up to her.

She sniffed and glared down at him, he returning the look inch for inch. Then he snarled, "You abandoned our kind to their fate and ripped into my mind. Now I lay Scyllaine's fate at your feet, Sylvanas."

"I did not do this," she hissed.

"Oh, of that I am well aware," snapped Necronim. "I've spoken to the bastard doing this – he seems awfully fond of me for some reason. What I want to know is what enemies we've made – that_you_ have made – and where they are." He clenched a fist and viciously finished, "Because I want to find him and rip out his damn throat for what he's done."

Sylvanas scowled then spat, "This person has taken from me as well, rogue."

"I HAVE A NAME!" he roared, cutting anything else she was going to say off. "I AM NECRONIM! AND SARAN TATHDYL! AND, DAMNIT, YOU WILL CALL ME BY ONE OF THEM!"

There was a stunned pause within the room then Kalya breathed, "Saran," her voice breaking the silence. Sylvanas stiffed and hissed, "Very well then, _Necronim_. It seems we must work together, we last two."

"Last…" Necronim trailed off then hissed, "Resden. He went the same as the rest."

"He is safe," assured Thrall, raising a hand. "Your friend shall be taken to the same place where he is being held. Though…it is strange that all have reverted but the two of you."

The wraith's words came back to him, making Necronim shiver. He then said, "We came across the minions of the one doing this in Azshara. It said I was different than the others…but it didn't bother to tell me just how that was."

Sylvanas tilted her head to the side and asked, "What do you suppose it meant?"

"I assumed it meant the fact that despite how much I denied it and took another name, I was still Saran Tathdyl. I am _still_ Saran Tathdyl. Most of the Forsaken truly did forget who they once were or moved on to an entirely new existence, trying to forget their old one. I tried…but I couldn't."

He shook his head then asked again, "Is there anyone that could do this?"

"A wizard of the Kirin Tor could be the one," she replied. Then Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at him, hissing, "But you cannot hope to defeat the one doing this."

"Watch me," snarled Necronim. "I've got plenty of motivation."

"And what sort of motivation would that be?"

"Two of the people I call 'friend' have been taken and that pisses me off. Whoever is doing this wants me under his thumb apparently and I bow to no one. Lastly…" Necronim turned towards Kalya with a questioning glance and she nodded weakly, giving him permission to let the spell be known. "Lastly, he has done this."

Reaching up, he drew back his vest and tunic to show the changed skin of his shoulder, all in the room staring at the sight. Then Kalya sniffed and pulled her own clothes down as well to reveal the pallid flesh on her own.

Sylvanas stared as Thrall glanced between them, murmuring, "Changed between them…"

"Yes," confirmed Necronim. "He wanted to punish _me_ for not jumping for joy at his offer so he did this."

"Is it only flesh?" breathed the Banshee Queen in a horrified voice.

"So far, yes, but that could change at any time now."

"So as you see," stated Kalya, moving to stand next to the rogue, "we have every motivation to find the one doing this and stop him."

"So we see indeed," said Thrall. "I will give you all the help I can."

Sylvanas blinked then bowed her head as she breathed, "As shall I."

Necronim stared at her for a long moment then growled, "I will never forget what you did to me. But maybe I can forgive you if you care for the forgiveness of a murderer."

"Saran!" scolded Kalya, hating every time he called himself that. Even if it was true from what she had heard from Kwaaku. He smiled slightly in apology then waited until Sylvanas nodded curtly before he turned away from them.

"If that's all then, we have a discussion with a mage to get to," he said. But as he took a step forward, both he and Kalya abruptly choked and convulsed to the floor, Kwaaku rushing to the both of them.

"What is going on?" demanded Sylvanas.

"I do not know!" bellowed the Tauren back. He lifted the young woman up in his arms as she flailed wildly then watched with shock as she stiffened, gasping vainly for air. In realization, he fumbled at her tunic to open it and tugged her shirt down to watch the dead flesh creeping further across hers. Over her heart. "She's…she's dying," he breathed.

"Its just the spell!" shouted Hresden, running in from where he had been standing in the doorway watching and waiting for a moment to enter. Behind him came Caren and several others, all casters of some sort. "Quickly get her! She's the one I'm worried about! If what I think is happening really is we need to keep her alive!"

"She's not alive!" exclaimed Kwaaku.

"Her heart isn't but her body still is!"

"This is very irregular, Hresden," said one of the priests as he extended his hands over Kalya's body as she was laid flat again.

"With me you should have known it would be. Caren, please, with me on Necronim."

The druid nodded and knelt next to the still convulsing rogue, one hand resting on his chest. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment then she said, "His heart beats…but the rest struggles to remain dead."

"It is the opposite with her!" exclaimed the priest as he bent over Kalya. "It would be a mercy to…"

"We are not killing them!" bellowed Hresden. "We are going to keep them alive either until we figure out to reverse this damn spell or they come to. Is that CLEAR, Windall?"

The Blood Elf twitched then nodded quickly. "Y-yes, Hresden."

"Good. Caren, what do you think?"

"This is an abomination," replied the druid, her hand still on Necronim's chest. "But…I think I have an idea."

"An idea for what?" asked a young shaman who leaned near.

"To perhaps accelerate this change so they may survive." A green glow enveloped her hand then as she continued, "We must keep them alive."

"You may remain here with them," said Thrall, causing all of the casters to look up with sudden realization of where they were at. The Warchief smiled tightly before barking to his guards, "Bring in bedding for all here! And anything they need should be gotten upon the first asking."

His blue gaze shifted to Hresden, who straightened up, and he continued, "Do what you can for them. They may be the only way we can find the one that has done this and stop it."

"I will do my best," swore the mage. He then rose to his feet and snapped, "Alright, I want four healers on both of them at all times and we can switch around between in shifts of two hours. When not healing, I want everyone working on Caren's idea in every moment you've got."

He quickly snapped off the names of four healers to move to Necronim, allowing Caren to begin explaining her idea. As she settled in with the mages and one warlock near her, Hresden walked over to where Kwaaku had sagged against a wall.

"They'll be alright," he assured as he crouched down next to the big Tauren.

"I felt her die," murmured Kwaaku mournfully. His single eye fixed on the elf and he repeated, "I felt her heart _die_, Hres."

Hresden frowned and reached forward to grasp the huge shoulder, snarling, "They will both live through this, I promise you!"

"But they will never be the same."

"No. No, they will not."

Kwaaku sighed then looked sadly towards the two still forms then said, "He will never forgive himself. Not now. Not for this."

"This wasn't his fault," protested Hresden.

"Doesn't matter," rumbled the Tauren. "It…it is just who he is."

The mage frowned then squeezed the huge shoulder again before he moved to Caren's side, falling to one knee next to her. As he listened to her, his gaze shifted to the fallen pair, eyes roving over the continuously creeping flesh.

And he made a silent promise that he would figure this out – even if he had to kill himself trying.


	17. This Ragged Guilt

**Chapter 17**

_Kill._

_KILL._

_Kill, kill, KILL._

_KILL!_

Necronim heaved upright with a feral scream of denial against the urge to kill raging through him. Hands pressed against his chest, shoving him back down into the bed, and he struggled weakly against them.

"Nec!" snapped a voice, familiar yet not all at once. "Necronim! You are safe! Be calm, my friend!"

"H-Hresden?" croaked the rogue, grasping at the hands. Numbly he was aware that something felt…wrong…but could not discern what. "What…what happened?"

The High Elf sighed then replied, "You collapsed – both you and Kalya. Nearly two weeks ago."

"Two…how? Why?"

Hresden frowned sadly then said, "My friend, you can see it with your own eyes." He gently took Necronim's left hand from where it gripped his wrist, lifting it up to where he could see it. Yellow eyes widened at the sight of his hand, as hale and as whole as it had been years before.

Staring, he clenched his fist, watching the play of bone and muscle underneath the solid skin. No rot. No pallid coloration. Real – _real_ – flesh and blood and bone in all the places it should be!

But…but…at the cost…

"Kalya," he gasped. "Where is she?"

The mage closed his eyes briefly before he shifted slightly, moving his chair over. Necronim turned his head to the side, looking across the room…and the heart he could now feel beating in his chest heaved in panic and fear. Across the room lay Kalya on a low bed, Kwaaku's sleeping form slumped at the end of it, and her arm…

"Her arm," he breathed, wishing desperately that he had tears to shed. "Oh Light, Hres, her _arm_!"

"I know, I know," murmured the elf, shifting again to hide the sight of Kalya's arm, the flesh as rotted as his had been with bones showing at her elbow and hands. "We did our best these past two weeks to slow its progress with an idea of Caren's. This…this is where we managed to stop it."

"Where?" demanded Necronim, struggling to sit up again. "_Where_, Hresden?!"

Hresden pushed him back down with more strength than even he had thought the mage possessed, muscles bunching under the skin of his bare arms. Then he leaned forward and began to trace his finger along the rogue's chest across the thin fabric of the shirt someone had changed him into. Necronim watched as the finger started at his neck then ran down, curving in a wide arch that almost covered the whole of his chest before running back downward to drift around his navel before ending at his hip.

"There," said the mage bitterly. "On the both of you, that is where this accursed thing spread." His hand clenched then and he snarled, "With every _hour_ that I have watched it spread, I have thought of all the ways I could kill this damned caster. And I have hated myself for every foul thought."

"Hres…"

"I will kill for my friend's, Necronim. For you. For her, though I don't know her, because you love her. I will kill him for this abomination."

Necronim grasped for Hresden's hands and gripped them tightly, staring desperately up at the elf. He was his elder by two good decades but had always seemed so much younger because of his usual smile and gentle nature. But once they had traveled together and had became friends over that time, he had seen another side to the mage. Years at his sister's side in the forest had taught him skill and how to kill – the horror of losing his home to the Scourge had forever scarred him, showing him that no place was safe unless defended. He had become determined to protect those close to him after that time and that determination empowered by arcane power as well as all he knew made him a formidable force. Even though he despised every thought of revenge, every caress of how to kill someone, he fought on anyway.

"Do not kill for me," hissed the Forsaken. "I am not worth you taking a life. Or losing your own!"

"You are my _friend_," snapped the mage, his green eyes glowing for a second. "And I protect those with my all. You know this."

"We aren't worth another shred of your innocence!"

Hresden stared at him then queried, "Innocence? Necronim, my friend, my innocence died when I saw my people slaughtered in the streets of my home. I watched the Scourge pour over them, watched the streets of Quel'thalas run red with Quel'dorei blood, and I did _nothing_. Never again will I be that useless youth."

Necronim frowned then settled back into the bed with a heavy sigh, arms falling to his sides.

"We don't even have a way to find him."

"Don't we?"

The question made him stare at the mage then realization dawned. Forcing himself up onto his right elbow, he hissed, "You want to _give_ him Resden or Scyllaine? No! No, I will not allow it!"

"Such may be the only way to find him!" insisted the mage.

"And what if he can listen through me even if I don't know it?"

"Then our plot is foiled and we must come up with something new. But I doubt he can see through an unwilling and still free Forsaken."

Necronim frowned then lifted his flesh and blood arm, flexing the muscles as he stared at it before murmuring, "Half Forsaken now." Then he looked desperately at Hresden and asked, "Why would he do this? Why would he think he could gain me by doing this?"

Hresden scowled in response, replying, "I don't deign to think like such a madman."

"Please, Hres."

"Perhaps he thinks to drive you mad."

"Well it's working. But not in the way he hoped," growled Necronim. "Mad? He wants me mad? He has damn well made me mad, Hresden!"

"I know, my friend, I know." The mage then frowned saying, "There is something that might make you even fouler."

"What?"

"Kalya. And you. This…switching."

Necronim scowled, snapping, "What of it?"

Hresden sighed then asked, "Take a moment, my friend. What do you feel?"

"What?" And then he realized. He clasped his left hand against his chest, feeling the pulse of a beating heart underneath. Realized that he was breathing, truly _breathing_. His skin was still rotted in places but underneath it…underneath it, it was starting to come back to life.

Which meant…

"She's dying," he murmured. "My heart beats now…and hers doesn't."

"We have done our best," said Hresden mournfully. "Made her as comfortable as we could but…but there is only so much that can be done, Nec." He bowed his head as he continued, "There is the fear amongst the healers that she may not wake after this. Such a shock to the body…they think it may have broken her."

Necronim scowled at that. He snarled, "She's stronger than that!"

"I take your word on that. But still…this is not over, Nec."

"You said Caren had an idea of how to stop it!"

Hresden winced almost violently then said, "I explained that wrong perhaps. She and we others managed to speed the spell up to this point in the hours just after you both collapsed. These past two weeks have been spent waiting to see if you would awake and the spell has moved more since then."

"Its still going," growled Necronim. "And you know how to speed it but not stop it."

"I cannot find out how to stop it without the caster!" The mage sighed wearily then said, "All we could do would be to finish what the spell does."

"No! No, no, and thrice no!"

Hresden nodded, saying, "That is what I knew you would say. But…Nec, it might be easier that way for her. This last thing has so stressed her body that letting it continue as slowly as it does might _kill_ her. And then we have no idea what that happening might do to you!"

Necronim scowled, arms crossed, then slumped and looked across the room again. He could see Kalya's sleeping face around Hresden's arm and her features were twisted into a pained expression even in sleep. Staring, he tried to imagine what she would look like with his rotted features…could he do that to her? Could he really let them hasten the spell?

She was in pain…

"Do it," he hissed, closing his eyes tight. "Damnit, do it!"

Hresden squeezed his shoulder then rose, leaving the room. Necronim saw Kwaaku was awake then and looking at him sadly but not accusingly. He did not blame him for his decision.

"I felt her die," murmured the Tauren. "In my arms, Saran. What horrible fate did we curse her to that day she helped us?"

"We did _nothing_," hissed Necronim. Sitting up, he continued, "Kwaa, it was _him_ that did this, not _us_. And she is not going to die! I'm not going to let her."

Even as he said it, it sounded horribly selfish.

Rolling over to face the wall, the rogue curled up and closed his eyes tight, feeling as horribly now as he had when he'd been arrested. He had failed his mother and sister…

And now he was failing Kalya.


	18. The Boy and the Forsaken

**Chapter 18**

Groggily Necronim struggled out of bed, moving clumsily for the first time in years. He groaned, hands running back through his hair, then looked up to see Hresden standing in the door with a tray of food in his hands.

"Hungry?" asked the mage.

"Starving," growled the rogue as he tugged the blanket around his hips. He then frowned, adding, "Its so strange to…"

"To feel again?"

"Yes." Necronim winced and stared towards the wall beyond which he knew was the room was Kalya had been moved to with Kwaaku watching over her. "I can't imagine what she's feeling to have all that suddenly gone."

Then he buried his head in his hands, feeling the bitter ache of having betrayed someone, murmuring, "I can't believe I did that to her."

Hresden frowned as he sat the tray down on the chair placed near the bed, saying, "She is no longer in pain."

"Living like that is a pain in itself!" snapped Necronim. He then glared at the tray of food, no longer hungry with the thought of how she might be suffering. "And now I did that to her."

"Nec…that monster did this to her with his spell."

"And who agreed to let you all speed it to its end? _I_ agreed to_that_, Hres! I did this to her this time, not him."

The elf sighed and moved the tray to the floor so he could take the chair, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. He steepled his fingers as he said, "Nec…"

"Saran."

"What?"

"Saran," breathed the rogue, bowing his head with fingers tangled in his hair. "I…I'm human again, Hres. Call me by my name."

Hresden smiled, cocking his head slightly to the side. "It will be strange changing after all these years."

"Please…try."

"For you, my friend. For you." The mage sighed then and said, "Ne –_Saran_, Kalya will forgive you for this. She will understand."

"And if she doesn't?" he asked.

"She will."

"You don't know that!" exploded Saran as he surged onto his feet. He glared down at Hresden, just barely catching the sheets before they slid to the floor, and howled, "You have no idea how that existence makes you feel! I spent that first year after I regained control of myself doing everything I could to _die._ And even after I didn't care what happened to me! The only thing that kept me from shoving myself only a paladin's blade was Kwaaku's damn stubbornness!"

Hresden just stared calmly up at him, lifting one hand slightly.

"That," he said gently, "is why you should not fear her pushing you away, my friend. She _needs_ you."

"She needs me to stop interfering in her life!"

"I think it is too late for that," said Hresden.

Saran scowled then slumped back down onto the bed, all anger seeping out of him. He ran a hand back through his hair, grumbling, "I don't think she'll want to see me after what I've done to her. Damnit, Hres, I wouldn't want to see me if I were in her place!"

"But_you_ are not _her_," pointed out the mage, leaning forward. "I have not known her long but I do know that she is a strong and very brave young woman. And she _will_ forgive you."

He then rose, continuing with a slight chuckle, "Though I suggest you try to eat something and get some clothes on over that skinny chest before you go talk to her."

Saran watched him go then frowned at the tray of food sitting nearby. Sighing, he leaned over and tore off a chunk of bread to cram into his mouth as he stared at the wall Kalya lay on the other side of.

He'd hurt her so much…

Could she really forgive him?

And could he forgive himself for doing it?

Kwaaku looked up as the door eased open, one large hand moving protectively to touch Kalya's forehead. His single eye fixed on the door, body tensing, then a slightly familiar human face peered in. He recognized the shape of the face and the shoulder length dark hair before anything – the guilt in the dark blue eyes cemented who it was.

"Nec," he rumbled in greeting.

"Kwaa," replied the rogue as he eased into the room. He looked ill at ease in his returned form, the Tauren observed, and still moved slightly hunched over. Besides that he looked…frail. Like someone would touch him and he would crumple into nothing. "Just…Saran, please. Call me Saran."

Kwaaku nodded then moved his hand from Kalya's head and heard a choked groan come from his friend's throat. Sadly, he watched the rogue move forward and fall to his knees at the head of the bed, the expression on his face one of deep regret.

Saran leaned forward and gently touched her hair, the auburn locks darker than he remembered but still soft. Then he dared look at her face, which was blessedly clear of the same rot his had suffered. The only things that even made her look different was the blue-gray pallor of her skin and the dark holes were her eyes had been.

"Oh, Kalya," he breathed, moving his hands to frame her face. Then he bowed his head to touch hers and felt the tears come, his shoulders shaking as sobs began to ravage his chest. "Look what I've done…oh, Light, look what I've done to you."

He felt her shift then and sensed Kwaaku moving back, the dull clipping of his hooves across the floor signaling his leaving.

"S-Saran?"

He lifted his head then and found himself staring down into bright golden eyes. Kalya smiled at him and lifted a half-rotted hand to touch his cheek.

Then there was the dull crack of bone against flesh and he twisted away, slumping to the floor with his back against the bed. His cheek screamed with pain and he found blood dripping down his chin from where the tips of her fingers had ripped open the skin.

"You_bastard_," she snarled from behind him, bones creaking as she rose. Then a choked sob made him cringe and turn back towards her, seeing her crumpling against the wall with a distraught expression. She glared at him as he slowly rose to his feet and hissed, "How could you? We could have stopped it! _We could have stopped it!_"

"Kalya," he started.

"Kwaa told me you let them do this. _You did this!_"

Saran's shoulders slumped and he stood there, feeling the worst he had in his entire life with blood dripping off his chin to the floor. Then he softly said, "You might have died if I hadn't let them do this. Hres told me that you might not have survived any further shock from allowing the spell to progress as slowly as it was."

Lifting his head to look at her, he continued, "Kwaa felt your heart stop…did he tell you that? I felt mine start at that moment we both collapsed – felt everything in me _restart_ and try to survive in a dead body. You were blessedly unconscious at that point so you felt nothing."

He lifted one hand to his cut cheek to try and stop the bleeding in a pause. Then he looked hard at her, finishing, "If I hadn't told them to do this, you might have _died_. And…and Light help me, I would rather have you hate me than be dead."

She stared at him for a long moment then said, "Get out."

"Kalya…"

"GET. OUT!"

Saran bowed his head at that, nodding slightly as he turned towards the door. As he opened it, he paused, looking back towards her sitting there curled up against the wall, with hate and sadness twisting her face into something horrible.

"I'm sorry," he murmured then dove through the door, fleeing back to the refuge of his own room. He slammed the door closed behind him and dragged the bed forward to block it before he picked up what was left of his old shirt, pressing it against his face. Blood stained it quickly but he didn't care…he sank down onto the bed and slumped against the door heavily.

The tears and sobs returned then and he surged forward abruptly, dry heaving in an attempt to bring up what little he'd eaten. When those faded, he stayed like that, eyes closed tight as he used a corner of the shirt to wipe his mouth.

**See how it is?**

He whipped upright at that, eyes wide. "You," he gasped. "How…"

**You think this comes without a price? Ah, no, no, m'boy, it does not. This new form of yours comes with a much heavier price.**

"I didn't want this!" roared Saran, surging onto his feet.

The voice chuckled darkly around his skull then purred, **Do you think you are really alive again?**

He twitched, shocked, then hissed out, "What are you talking about?"

**Do you believe you are really alive again?**

"What am I if not?!"

**Something new**, replied the voice. **Something…more than Forsaken but still less than human. And you could be great with me and your fellows, Saran Tathdyl. With your help we could rule this world.**

Saran stood glaring at the ceiling for a moment then growled, "No. Help you? Help you after you hurt her?! NEVER!"

The voice sighed then, saying, **Hmm, I suppose that is that then. Ah well, I shall just have to work with the ones I have. More's the pity though…you could have been of great use to me. But since you refuse, I have no choice but to be rid of you.**

"What?" he hissed then choked as pain ripped through his entire body, falling twitching to the floor. Gasping, he clawed at the floor as he writhed wildly, only just hearing someone banging on the door.

"Nec! NEC! SARAN!"

He tried to choke out something to say but was only able to release a strained scream of agony. There was a curse from the other side of the door then a bolt of ice snapped the wood in half before crashing into the wall across the room. Hresden shoved his way through the shattered door, splinters digging into his arms, with Caren behind him.

The druid immediately dropped next to him and reached out her hand, only to be stopped by a snap of lightning between his body and her hand. She cursed before holding both hands out at just the distance where the lightning would not touch. Saran froze in mid twist for a moment, staring at her, then heard her snap in a commanding voice that brooked no argument, "Sleep!"

He felt the two magic's struggle with each other, fighting over him, then one won. Which he wasn't sure but he was sinking into blessed unconsciousness and the pain was fading. And that was all that mattered.


	19. The Plot Thickens

**Chapter 19**

"You found the bastard?" gasped Saran for the third time, staring at Hresden. The mage grinned wickedly and nodded.

"That was quite the noticeable spell he used to reach you. And while I'm not the best mage, I learned from the best Quel'thalas had so I know how to track spells." His grin widened, eyes glowing for a moment with arcane power, as he added, "We can _find_ him, Nec. Make him pay for everything."

The rogue blinked then felt the same sort of grin sliding across his face, a feeling of success filling him. He could fix things!

"Do it," growled Saran. "We have to do it."

"You will need help," said Caren from her chair. "From what I have felt this is no mere mage we are dealing with. Yet not entirely a necromancer I don't think. But…powerful, very powerful."

"Would have to be to cause this," agreed Hresden with a gesture at Saran. "Or…I suppose it could simply be someone with a powerful item. Like the Dragonsoul."

Kwaaku grunted then asked, "But what sort would help in this?"

The mage sighed and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

"That is just the problem. There are several items like that in the world, with all sorts of varying strength. Dozens were lost when the Scourge took Quel'thalas – several more vanished in the destruction of Dalaran. Those that came to Theramore after hoped that the items had been destroyed since searches for most of them came up with nothing. But…"

Caren frowned now, saying, "But such is not probable. You think he has found one of these items. Or more."

"Yes," replied Hresden, closing his eyes as if in pain. "The problem is…it was made sure that those items would not be able to be used unless handled by a mage of Quel'thalas or a wizard of Dalaran after the whole debacle of the Dragonsoul was heard about. So whoever this is…" He paused and clenched a fist, growling out, "It could very well be one from there. And if they are, they had better hope they aren't someone I knew from Quel'thalas. I do not hold well to _anyone_ harming my friends, particularly not someone I learned from or beside."

Saran nodding, saying, "Fair enough. When can we leave?"

"When we are certain you are well," replied Caren to which the rogue shook his head.

"We can't wait that long. If we wait long enough, he'll just try to kill me again. Last time hurt enough and I'm not fond of going through that again." Frowning, he ran a hand restlessly through his hair as he added, "I'm not even sure if I could take that another time. Or maybe…"

"Maybe what?" asked Kwaaku.

Saran sighed then looked at his friend, the only one that was with him now that had been there. That was seen those three pale figures on their Scourge-born mounts.

Could he tell them he feared he was becoming that?

That Kalya's life was being switched with his own so he would turn into one of those feral creatures?

No.

They had enough to worry of with her. He could bear this burden alone – it wouldn't be the first time he'd carried the weight of something on his shoulders. The sure death of his mother and sister had always been there, even when he had been lost to the Scourge.

"Nothing," he replied. "Just…thinking."

"Necronim, look at me," intoned Caren, leaning towards him. He blinked as she took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her when he wouldn't. And he didn't say a think about her calling him by that name – Kalya and the rest he wanted to call him Saran. But Caren…Caren had been the one to come across him when he had been half feral still and trying desperately to kill himself.

She had set up camp near him and managed to coax him to her fire, slowly drawing his story out of him. Her deep, calm voice had helped him so much during those days when he'd been frantic to die as she told him of the world and what had been happening since the Scourge had fallen apart. She had convinced him to take up his blades again in defense of at least himself if not the Horde.

He had promised to take them up in thanks to her for saving him. And she had been the one to give him his name.

She had been the one to call him Necronim when he refused to go by Saran.

She had the right still to call him that.

"Care," he murmured, lifting his hands to grasp her, "please…_don't_."

"Tell me, my friend," she rumbled gently. "You confessed your fears to me once and I see them again in your eyes even if they are different. I am still here for you."

Saran blinked then closed his eyes, trying to duck his head. But her large hands held his face firm and after a moment he broke…because he was tired. Tired of keeping everything in. Tired of relying on only himself. Tired of playing the role of the Forsaken.

His fears spilled out in a frantic voice and as he spoke, the fear started to consume him. He started to shake, to crumble altogether, but Caren's hands moved to his shoulders and she held him together. When he was finished, she lifted his chin and smiled gently down at him.

"You will not become one of those creatures you saw, Necronim. I promise you that I won't allow that to happen."

He blinked then smiled, not wanting to believe her. But he did. Because he really did need something to believe in.

"Now," said the druid, her eyes moving to the others in the room, "we should begin to prepare for leaving. There are some we must do ourselves, Hresden, so we can track this wizard."

"You're using Scyllaine?" breathed Saran. "Or Resden?"

"We have no other choice," said Hresden sadly as he rose to his feet. He patted his friend's shoulder then left the room with Caren, leaving only Saran and Kwaaku there.

The big Tauren looked at the dejected slump of his friend and rose to rest a hand on his shoulder. Saran looked up in surprise then twisted away, muttering, "Kalya can't come, Kwaa."

"She'll insist," rumbled the Tauren.

"I don't want her dragged any further into this!"

Kwaaku mournfully eyed his friend and said softly, "Nec, I'm afraid she's too far in to get out. You know that."

The rogue made a noise in his throat then sighed heavily.

"I know," he muttered, "but haven't I hurt her enough? This…Kwaa, we could be killed!"

"And I know she would rather die at your side than waste away here!" hissed Kwaaku. At Saran's look of disagreement, he continued, "She is sorry for what she said to you. For what she did. But you understand that, don't you?"

"I'm tired of hurting her," breathed Saran.

"I know," rumbled Kwaaku, sinking down to one knee and squeezing the thin shoulder. His heart ached for the both of them; so obviously in love but never able to be together as it seemed, no matter what, one was human and one Forsaken. "But sometimes it just can't be helped."


	20. Don't Give Up Now

**Chapter 20**

"Turned…here," said Hresden, crouching in the dirt. He touched three fingers to it then looked up, eyes darting around them and one ear gave a brief twitch. "To the right…hmm."

"What is it?" asked Caren from the back of her wolf, Korin. She held the reins of Corain, Hresden's horse, in one hand and the bony beast rattled as she gave a shake.

"He's heading towards Tanaris." The High Elf cocked his head to the side then murmured, "Why Tanaris?" He then gave a shake of his head and rose, slapping dust from his boots before he took Corain's reins from Caren. Swinging up onto the skeletal horses back in a rattle of bones, he said, "But that's where he's going. Right straight across the Shimmering Flats – only place he can go as there's nothing here but the race track."

Caren nodded then looked over her shoulder at the rest of their group. Saran slumped half asleep in his saddle, hair falling lank over his face, but his fingers were knotted into the reins. Kalya had insisted on coming as Kwaaku had said she would…unfortunately through every step of the journey tracking Resden from his release from Orgrimmar through the Barrens and Thousand Needles, she had begun to look steadily weaker.

And Saran's skin became paler despite the sun they traveled through, he holding himself a bit more stiffly every time she looked.

"We have to hurry," she hissed to the mage, who had followed her gaze and saw the same things she did. She knew too that he was seething with the same anger as her and ready to unleash it in a blaze of fire and ice at the opportunity.

"So we do," agreed Hresden, his voice frosty. "SARAN!"

The rogue sprang awake then and blinked before saying, "Sorry, sorry. Find the tracks?"

"Yes," came the reply from the elf. "Now ride. HAH!"

He spurred the horse forward with a slap against her still half-there flank and Saran followed, urging his wolf after. Kwaaku, with an exhausted Kalya supported in his arms, followed him and shared a worried glance with Caren as he passed her.

The druid sighed then closed her eyes briefly, muttering a prayer to the Earth Mother that they would find this wizard before something happened to Kalya and Saran. As she urged Korin on, she said another that they would return safely home and she could hug her son again.

An hour saw them crossing the border into Tanaris and Hresden cursed loudly before he kicked Corain into a wild gallop, racing out in front of them. Saran jerked fully awake at that then urged his wolf forward as he saw the thick black smoke rising from Gadgetzan.

_No, no, no!_ he screamed frantically in his mind as he rode into town. But it was…

Bodies were everywhere – goblin, Horde, and Alliance alike. For a brief moment he felt the old, half-forgotten urge to cannibalize a corpse rise in his throat and choked.

"Scourge," growled Hresden, already standing on the ground, his eyes narrowed. He then whirled towards the inn at the sound of a growl and they saw Resden stalking out of it, his jaw stained with gore. Saran felt a pang at seeing his friend like that then he reached for his daggers as he heard something behind them.

"We're not alone," he muttered, freeing his feet from the stirrups.

"No," agreed Hresden, backing towards him slowly. As the rogue dropped from the saddle, they moved to where they were back to back. "How many do you think?"

Saran wracked his memory, much as he hated it, then replied, "No more than five. That's how many always lingered after a kill."

He could sense his friend's concern at that and knew why. He knew what was happening to him just as they did – but what was frightening to him was that the memories of his time as a mindless creature were starting to spring up. Clear as day and bloody as a fresh massacre.

"Six, plus Resden," noted the mage. He then slowly drew the sword at his hip, the long blade glowing with an iridescent hue and etched with strange curling designs. "Ghouls?"

"Yeah," replied Saran, watching as one rose groaning out of the sand near the wall and another began lumbering out of the nearby shop. He drew his daggers then asked, "Count of three?"

Hresden chuckled darkly, then said, "Three." He spun around then, coming to stand side by side with Saran, and thrust his sword out towards the oncoming ghoul. The enchanted blade caught it in the throat and one hissed word in Thalassian sent it into flaming agony.

The other ghouls screamed with it and then they charged as their companion died.

A bellow wrenched its way out of Saran's throat in response before he ducked a heavy swinging claw, slashing his daggers across the rotted belly. The ghoul shrieked, rearing back, and he lunged upwards with a savage snarl, thrusting both daggers in deep to its throat. With a wrench of his shoulders, he pulled both out – one to each side – and the ghoul's head tumbled away.

Claws raked against his back then and he spun with a howl, thrusting one dagger deep into its eye. He let go of it as the ghoul staggered back, then snarling pressed forward, one hand still gripping a dagger and the other twisted into a claw. Kicking the ghoul in the chest, he lashed out with his unarmed hand and had to blink in surprised as there was a gout of ichor. The ghoul tumbled backwards, head nearly severed from its body, and he looked down at his hand in awe.

His stomach rolled and shivers wracked his limbs as he saw his hand _was_ a claw. It was still his hand but it had twisted, turning into something more similar to the ghoul's.

Shaking, he shook it before reaching for his other dagger. As he tugged it out of the eye, Caren and Kwaaku entered the town as Hresden cleaved his sword through the neck of the last ghoul. The mage kicked the rotten skull away, then snarled, "Monsters!"

"Yes," said Saran dully, drawing attention to himself. He held up his clawed hand and they watched as it slowly became nothing more than a human hand again. His eyes met Hresden's and he stated, "I'm afraid you might have one amongst you soon."

"Not if I can help it!" snapped the elf. He spun in the sand then and growled, "He went south west…Un'goro. _Through_ Un'goro, most likely. To Silithus…"

"Let's go then," grumbled Saran, shaking his head. As he started to turn, Hresden's hand on his shoulder whirled him back around and the mage shoved him back against the wire wall of the arena.

"Don't you dare just give up," snarled the mage. "You're stronger than that and we both know it! And the second you just give up, its over. _Finished_. Because you've done what you didn't want to do and given in that that monster's will."

Saran blinked then lifted his hands to rest on Hresden's wrists. Staring straight at his friend, he murmured, "He's killing her."

"And if you give up, Kalya will die for _nothing_."

"I don't want her to die at all!"

"There is still a chance of that," growled Hresden. "But you _must_ keep going. Keep fighting. We still have time!"

The rogue slumped against the wire for a moment then he straightened, Hresden's grip on his tunic loosening. He looked up at him with a sharp nod, saying, "We do still have time. Not much…I…"

Shaking his head, Saran finished, "No, nevermind. We have to ride, not talk."

Hresden smiled and said, "That we do," before he turned to walk after Corain. Saran slowly moved over to where his mount had gone running to Caren and Kwaaku and looked up at Kalya slumped in the big Tauren's arms. Her eyes were actually open for once and she peered weakly at him, a smile on her face.

He stared for a moment then reached up, cautiously taking her hand where it lay on Kwaaku's arm. His fingers wound around hers loosely then she gripped tight, almost desperately.

"Kalya," he murmured.

"I trust you," she said, smiling at him again. Then the light of her eyes guttered out and she sank with a sigh back into Kwaaku's hold, lost to unconsciousness again. Saran stared, her hand still in his, then his eyes hardened, dark blue seeming to become black.

Drawing away, he flung himself up onto the back of his wolf and with a snap of its reins went riding hard into the desert. Hresden followed quickly with Caren and Kwaaku drawing up the rear, and pushed Corain hard to catch up with his friend.

"Ready now?" he asked loudly over the sound of the wind picking up, signaling the beginning of a sand storm.

Saran bared his teeth and growled, "She trusts me still. Even after this." Then he smiled coldly, almost ferally. If Kwaaku or Kalya had seen the expression, they would have shuddered at its similarity to the three riders.

"I'm ready."


	21. The Journey is Almost at an End

**Chapter 21**

"Hiding_ in_ Ahn'Qiraj?"

"So it would seem," said Hresden from the ground. Since they had deliberately spared Resden at Gadgetzan, he had continued on and at the edge of Silithus they had picked up his trail again. "Madness but then again I think we already know he is mad."

"So we do," murmured Caren. She then said, "We should camp for the night then continue in the morning."

"We can't," growled Saran from where he sat on the ground next to Kalya, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arms folded on top of it. Beside him, the new-made Forsaken shivered and tried desperately to breathe, low whimpers escaping her every few moments. He lifted his head to look at them and continued, "We don't have the time."

Caren frowned then nodded – she hadn't figured they would really. The only reason they had stopped now was to give their mounts a little bit of rest and so Hresden could pick up the tracks again.

Kwaaku looked up from sharing out water with all the animals excepting Hresden's then rumbled, "We're close. An hour's ride."

"How do you know?" asked Hresden as he straightened and wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead.

"We came out here once." It was Saran that replied and his gaze was focused off in the distance. "Kwaa was trying to impress a girl and begged me to come out here and help him get a silithid claw since she wanted something she'd never seen before."

The big Tauren ducked his head in embarrassment then grumbled, "She wasn't impressed. Wanted flowers."

Caren smiled at the story and Hresden gave a little chuckle, shaking his head, before he nudged one of the bones in the sand. With a rattle, Corain came back into one piece, and tossed her head in annoyance at her master.

"Yes, I realize you were enjoying the sun, girl, but we've still got work to do," intoned the mage as he patted the horse's flank. Then he swung up into her saddle and said, "Let's go then."

Saran gathered up Kalya in his arms then and waited until Kwaaku was mounted before he handed her up to him. He lingered there for a moment then turned swiftly and ran to his mount, already urging the wolf forward before he was in the saddle.

An hour later they did arrive at the gates of Ahn'Qiraj, just as Kwaaku had said. Hresden approached first, Corain jingling her gear nervously…then she reared up, screaming, as one of the ferals dropped down in front of her. The mage tugged her back, fighting to get her back under control, and snarled, "Who are you?!"

"A mere minion of my master," came the growled response. The feral then rose and pointed one hand at Saran, who glared back at it. "Welcome home, my brother."

"Not your brother yet," snarled the rogue. His arm then whipped forward but as the small throwing dagger buried itself into the sand, the feral was gone.

"We will see you inside, brother! Our master is dying to meet you and your friends!"

Saran growled then kicked his wolf forward, leaning over in the saddle to snatch up the dagger as he went. When his mount balked halfway through the open archway that formed the gate, he flung himself from the saddle and ran forward on foot, boots kicking up dust in his wake.

"SARAN!" bellowed Hresden, swinging down from his saddle. Cursing in Thalassian, he wrenched a bag off his saddle and flung it over his shoulder as he sprinted after the rogue.

Caren frowned then said to Kwaaku, "It would be best if you stay here with her."

"I can help," replied the Tauren as she got down from her wolf. Caren nodded and said, "I know. But he needs to know she is safe and not in their hands. Ride away quick as you can."

Turning, she tugged her staff from its bindings to the saddle then strode into Ahn'Qiraj after her two friends. Kwaaku watched her go mournfully then hugged Kalya close as he urged his wolf around.

Only to come face to face with two of the ferals, who were grinning maliciously at him.

He didn't have time to react before they were on him. One leapt at his mount, tearing into the wolf's throat and scaring off the others at the same time. Kwaaku was flung from the saddle and rolled to land on his back, cradling Kalya against his chest. He came to his feet quickly, reaching for his fighting claws, but the other was on him before he could.

In an instant his arm was torn to ribbons and the feral cackled as it danced around him, moving too quickly for him to reach out and grab.

"Give us the girl," it hissed.

"No!" he roared in response. He had to protect Kalya! She was his friend and Saran…

_Saran loved her._

"Fine then," snarled the other one, the one that had attached his mount. Then both moved forward them and he saw with horror that their hands were deformed into claws – like Saran's had done in Gadgetzan. "We'll just take her then."

"By force," growled the second, red eyes gleaming.

Kwaaku nodded and steadied himself, flexing his injured arm painfully. He pulled Kalya closer with the other and snarled, "Do your worst, monsters!"

"Oh we will," purred one before they both leapt with feral screams, their weight driving the big Tauren into the sand.

And the last thing Kwaaku remembered as one of them smashed a stone against his head, was the other pulling Kalya away from him and seeing her frightened yellow eyes staring at him.

He had failed…


	22. Face to Face With Death

**Chapter 22**

Saran ran.

He could feel the pull inside, drawing him deeper into the ruins. The strangely empty, quite ruins. When he had last been here, they had been alive with enemies and he and Kwaaku had only just barely escaped when they had been spotted.

Now…nothing.

Snarling, he ran on, only just hearing the pounding of footsteps behind him. Hresden, obviously.

"Having fun, brother?" came the question from his right and he spun with a snarl mid-run, not even bothering to draw his daggers. His hand shifted to a claw again but he found himself swiping at empty air.

"Better!" crowed the voice from the top of the wall and he glared up at the feral that grinned down at him. "But still not fast enough, brother! You're not a match for us yet! Still just…"

Abruptly a fireball crashed into the feral's face, sending him screaming in pain away from the wall. Saran turned to see Hresden jogging towards him with a scowl marring his features, his eyes glowing menacingly with arcane power.

"They need to learn to shut up," he growled darkly.

"So they do," agreed Saran. He then pointed ahead of them, further into the ruins, and said, "I can feel him ahead. Not far."

"That's not a good sign."

"No…no, its not."

There was a thump of hooves in the sand behind them and there was Caren, coming towards them with her staff slung across her back.

"Kwaaku? Kalya?" asked Saran worriedly, shaking his hand as it returned to normal.

"I told him to head back to town," replied the druid. She then frowned and asked, "Not much further." At their surprised look, she said, "I can sense the evil here, the magic permeating everything. All of the earth here is screaming."

Saran scowled, staring ahead of them. They were close…so close to finding out who was behind this.

"Let's go," he growled and as one they stepped forward. To victory or death, they were together.

And all three were surprised when they entered an open area that might have once been a hall. The remains of the roof were scattered throughout the room on the floor and Hresden snarled, "Ghouls!" as they entered. All around them, hissing and lurking at the edges of the room, they were but Saran's attention wasn't on them.

His eyes were focused on the figure at the back of the room, who was turning towards them with a smile. The three ferals were gathered around him, cackling, and behind him on a stone table…

…he had Kalya.

_He had Kalya._

"Ah, so you finally arrive," stated the figure warmly, obviously male from the voice. Though the heavy cloak he wore despite the sun bearing down upon them obscured his features. "Come to join the family at last, Saran? And…you brought friends, now quaint. A pity I'll have to kill them."

"You can try," growled Hresden, drawing his sword with a hiss of metal. "I guarantee I will take you and your monsters with me."

The man tilted his head back enough that the lower half of his face was visible as his mouth twisted into a sadistic smile. And they all caught sight of the sickly gray pallor of his skin.

"Ah, Hresden Sylindaal. I remember watching you run as Quel'thalas burned around us."

"WHO ARE YOU?!" bellowed the mage, taking a furious step forward. "_Answer me!_"

With a laugh, the man threw back his hood, revealing what might have once been the handsome face of an elf. Through his chin and the right side of his face that remained, including his ear – but on the left side his skull showed through, that eye glowing golden as the other somehow managed to still flare green. Lank red hair spilled messily around his shoulders and he grinned as Hresden jerked back in reaction.

"_Callith_."

"Yes," purred the former High Elf. "Callith Ristall, your best friend once upon a time. The friend you left to die in the streets! Oh, it will be fine revenge to turn you…pity that sister of yours isn't here. I could make her my queen…"

"What is this?" snarled Hresden. "All revenge against me?"

"Against you?" replied Callith. "Oh, no, no. You're just a consolation prize. What I want is the world. Everything the Lich King had is now _mine_. And I think I will be a much better ruler for the world than that stupid prince."

"You're mad," said Caren darkly. "The Horde and the Alliance will band together to stand against you if you go to war. Just as they did against the Lich King."

Callith pursed his lips and tutted. "Stupid druid," he snarled, "this part of the world is mine already. I know your kind…you can hear the earth screaming, can't you?"

"As I have heard Felwood scream," hissed Caren, taking a step forward. She ground her staff in the sand before her and glared at him, "And a dozen other places in Azeroth and Outland. Do not think you can make me balk, necromancer, by mentioning the screams of the earth."

Callith sniffed at that then smiled at Saran, gesturing behind him at Kalya. The rogue stiffened and growled, "Let her go."

"Let her go? Now why would I do a silly thing like that?" He smiled coldly and continued, "You see I have to have her to finish you. Then we can begin."

"I'm _nothing!_" screamed Saran. "Why do you need me?!"

The cold, mismatched eyes fixed on him and the necromancer replied, "Nothing? This from the killer from SI:7, from the man that escaped the Deeps of Stormwind, from _Saran Tathdyl_?! Oh, no, you are not nothing. You are far from being _nothing_."

"We were like you," hissed one of the ferals.

"Killers."

"Murderers."

"Vagabonds."

"Men of the worst nature."

"Fallen to the Plague," cackled one.

"Thought lost forever," hissed another.

"But our master found us."

"Made us strong."

"Promised us everything we every wanted."

"And we thought of you," said one with a grin. "I was in the cell next yours…heard your story…" It then lifted its wrist out towards them and there was a brand there, one less intricate than the one that scarred Saran's wrist but still one of the same sort. "And I knew you had to be one of us, brother."

Saran cringed back in horror then rage filled him, burning through his veins. How dare they assume what he wanted? How dare they think they could simply snap their fingers and he would come running?!

_How dare they think they understood him?!_

"I'll kill you!" he snarled, eyes fixed on Callith.

"Come then," said the necromancer, snapping his fingers. The ghouls at the edge of the room surged forward then and he yelled, "Come and kill me if you can, Saran Tathdyl!"

"_Bash'a no falor talah!_" shouted Hresden as flames flared along his blade. He met the first ghoul that came at him with a slash to the throat and it went down screaming as he moved on to the next. And a glance towards Callith made him smirk – his former friend was surprised at his actions. He had obviously expected the youth he had known, who he had thought to be excellent at magic but worthless with a blade. How was he to know that youth had been left in the dust of Quel'thalas?

Abruptly from the sand came roots, great twisting vines rippling with thorns. They wrapped viciously around the ghouls, choking the life from a great many of them, and Caren surged through the rest. Her staff crashed into skulls, crushing them, and the vines followed almost gleefully in her wake.

Callith shouted orders then he turned at a roar to see Saran leaping at him out of a crush of ghouls, his teeth bared. The necromancer snarled and then one of the ferals swept into the fray, kicking Saran away. The rogue hit the ground and rolled up to his feet, clutching his daggers tightly in his hands.

"You don't need those, brother," growled the feral, its hands flexing into claws.

"I'm not like you," snarled Saran. "I will _never_ be like you!"

"I say otherwise," hissed Callith and laid his hand over Kalya's heart. She bucked, gasping, and Saran collapsed with a scream, dropping his daggers as he clutched at his chest.

"_Kalya!_" he choked.

Callith sneered, saying, "_Love_. Between a Forsaken and a human…how precious. How doomed to fail." His fingers clenched and Kalya gasped again, trying to inch away but failing. "Pity."

"STOP IT!" howled Saran as he lurched to his feet. The feral tensed but it was not ready for the fury of the storm that descended upon it. It stepped in Saran's way and he fixed it with a glare that froze it, his eyes alternating between dark blue and red. And when it froze, he lunged forward with his hands twisted into claws and tore its head from its shoulders.

As Callith lifted his hand from Kalya, Saran leapt up onto the raised section of the floor, snarling as he rushed at the former High Elf. The other two ferals came into play then and then slammed him against the table before drawing back. Slowly Callith knelt down next to him and said, "I must teach you more of a lesson, don't I?"

Saran snarled weakly, trying to regain his bearing, and scrabbled for a grip on the table. Callith smiled then purred, "I do it seems," and reached for his right hand.

Upon his touch, the rogue screamed in agonizing pain and Hresden paused mid battle to shout, "_Saran!_" before he had to defend himself against a ghouls claws. Snarling, he kicked it away then lashed out with a spell, a burst of fire that rippled along the ground from his feet. As the ghouls fell back, he sprinted towards the stone table, leaping over and around the other ghouls in his way.

"There," said Callith as he pulled back with a smirk. "Does that teach you now?"

Saran winced and drew his hand against his chest, shocked to the core to see that it was back to as it had been. Bones and rotted flesh from mid forearm down…the hand he had known for the past years.

"That won't stop me," he growled.

"Well then," growled Callith, his face contorting in anger, "then I…" There was movement behind him then and he turned in shock to see Kalya sitting up, her golden eyes afire with fury and a slim little blade in her fist. "_What?_"

She lashed out at him then, no words needed to show how she felt, and her fist smashed into the side of the face where the skull showed. The bones snapped with a brittle crack and she snarled as she drove the blade in, stabbing frantically.

Her movement shocked the ferals then they were moving with snarls towards her. Saran came over the stone table then, his eyes back to blue, and kicked one in the face with both feet then enough force to break bone. As he whirled around to dispatch the other a swarm of bees blurred into its face, sending the feral careening backwards screaming as the insects attacked.

Then Hresden was there, his eyes glowing with arcane power, and he kicked the fallen Callith over onto his back. The necromancer choked in pain then managed to grin up at the mage despite his half caved in face.

"Going to…_hack_…kill me now, old friend?"

"How did you get this much power?" snarled Hresden, placing the tip of his sword against Callith's throat. "What did you use?!"

"I was gifted it by Kel'thuzad himself!" snapped Callith. "I was not Scourge like those wretches I used. I was _more_!"

Hresden sneered at that. "And less. Now where is it, Callith?"

"Like I'm going to tell you, _old friend._ And even if you had it, you can't change what's been done!"

"Very well."

The mage turned to look at Saran, who had gathered Kalya up into his arms, sitting on top of the table with his arms around her and his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She caught his eyes and smiled sadly before leaning her face towards his head. Hresden bared his teeth then lunged down at Callith, lifting him up with one arm.

The necromancer choked then breathed, "You're stronger…not so much a mage anymore, are you?"

"I get around," growled Hresden. "What happens to them?"

Callith laughed hoarsely then replied, "You can't stop the transfer once it stops. No reversal. No end. Well…at least no end until the victim's dead."

There was a choked sob from Saran at that and Hresden's fingers clenched in his former friend's robes.

"So I let her die," he hissed.

"Basically…now much you can do really. Though that was the point, her dying." Callith grinned, as he said, "Can't let a minion be happy, y'know. They start thinking for themselves then."

Hresden growled then asked, "Caren, can you come hold him?"

"The druid?! Hold me whilst you kill me?" Callith exploded with laughter then he fell off as Hresden's hand fell away, two larger ones gripping him tightly. He looked up at the Tauren and found two feline eyes gleaming menacingly down at him.

"Do not mistake me for some," she spat, her low voice partially distorted by a growl. "I hold to many things druidic, necromancer…but I have no qualms against killing."

"You're really going to kill me?" questioned Callith as Hresden lifted his blade. "Me, your best friend?!"

Cold green eyes stared down at him and Callith instantly regretted taking that path of convincing. Hresden bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile and snarled, "My friend died in the streets of Quel'thalas while I ran. I will not allow you to continue to wear his face and taint every memory I have of him."

"NO!"

The scream rent through the air as Hresden's sword came down, fire wreathing it, and tore through Callith's neck. As his head rolled away off the raised area into the sand, the two remaining ferals began to scream in agony, their lives obviously connected to their master's. One even reached out to Saran, crying, "Brother! Brother, help us!" But he kept his face buried against Kalya's neck, drawing her even closer as they screamed in their dying pains.

Hresden crouched down next to Callith's body as Caren let it fall into the sand, dark ichor splattered across his face and clothes. After a moment, he peered into his crushed skull then reached inside, drawing out a medallion coated in ichor.

"He kept it in his head?" asked Caren with a wince.

"One way to keep people from finding it," said the mage mournfully. He frowned down at the thing in his hand then looked at Saran and Kalya, remembering Callith's words. And he knew they were true. He remembered this damnable thing, a relic of Quel'thelas from centuries before.

From Queen Azshara's rule and the city of Zin-Azshari.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the item in his hands, dropping his sword into the sand as he moved both hands to hold it. He heard Caren call his name then Saran but ignored them as he did something that his instructor's years ago would have called incredibly foolish.

He reached for the magic in the medallion…and he severed it from its anchor in the world. It was strangely easy in such an item and he opened his eyes to see the magic swirling out of it in a strange, multi-hued cloud.

Then he hurled it into the air as hard as he could, following its path with a bolt of ice that shattered it. Its magic dissipated into the air above them harmlessly, flowing back into the world it had been drawn from.

"What now?" asked Caren, coming near him.

"Find Kwaaku," replied Hresden softly. "I will…I'll talk to them."

She nodded then touched his shoulder, gently saying, "His actions weren't your fault, Hresden. You weren't to know he would survive and become that monster."

He frowned at that, shaking his head.

"Maybe. But I still _ran_, Caren. I was old enough to defend myself and my people then, even if I was still a child by our standards." He lifted his head and finished, "And that is something I will always regret."

"You survived to be here by running. And I think I like having you were than dead. As does Necronim."

"Saran," corrected Hresden absently and Caren smiled.

"He will always be Necronim to me," she murmured, looking sadly at him. She then patted Hresden's shoulder and went to her search, her form shifting into that of a cat that loped off into the ruins.

Slowly Hresden approached the pair on the table and started, "Saran…" Then he drew back, startled, as his friend's head wrenched up and he saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes drew to Kalya and his heart broke. "Oh, my friend…"

"She…" Saran's voice from broken, torn by grief and anger as he tried to speak. "She used the last of her strength. To save me. _Me!_ As if I was worth it!"

"She thought you were."

"_I'm not!_" The rogue sobbed, rocking back and forth with Kalya in his arms, her face pressed against his throat. "I wasn't worth it. Kalya… _KALYA!_"

Hresden stood there numbly for a moment then turned away, feeling tears stinging in his eyes as well. He had only known her for a matter of days but he had come to like the girl very much. She had such bravery…such spark…

And she had dared to love his friend with her heart and soul.

Enough to give her life to save his.

Behind him, Saran's sobs lengthened into a wail of pain that echoed through the ruins of Ahn'Qiraj and the mage couldn't take it anymore.

Hresden sank against the edge of the stone table and let the tears come, mourning the young woman.

_Bash'a no falor talah_: Taste the chill of true death (Thalassian)

**Author's Note:**

From the very beginning, I am sad to say, Kalya was slated to die for Necronim. As I started the first words of the second chapter with her being taken, her fate came to me and it was sealed. Because, much as we like them, there can't always be happy endings.


	23. The Goodbye

**Chapter 23**

"You're sure she won't be disturbed here," questioned Hresden as he stood next to Caren in a secluded corner of Moonglade far from Nighthaven. "And that we can bury her here?"

"The druid's here came to love her," replied the Tauren, dressed again in her blue and silver robes, not the leathers she had worn when they were traveling. "She was quite the human, they said."

The High Elf turned to look at the despondent form sitting on a boulder nearby, watching the digging of the grave with dark eyes.

"Yes," he said softly, "she was."

Caren followed his gaze and shook her head, saying, "He won't talk to me. Nor Kwaaku."

"He doesn't blame him, does he?"

"No. That is the one thing he had made clear. He but blames Callith and himself for her death."

Hresden nodded then patted Caren's arm before walking over to his friend, standing a foot or so away and waiting to be noticed. Saran looked up after a moment then stood slowly, brushed off his pants idly. And Hresden noticed while he had a glove covering his skeletal right hand, his left was uncovered and the brand he'd earned in Stormwind was showing.

"Not afraid you might get arrested for that?" he asked, nodding at the brand. Saran blinked then looked down at it and shrugged before smiling tightly at his friend. Some spark filled the previously dull eyes and it made Hresden smile in return.

"Somehow," said Saran, "I'm not that afraid of the Deeps anymore. Or dying. And let them try." Sighing, he hooked his thumbs in his belt and shook his head. "Callith was right…I'm something new."

"What do you mean?" asked Hresden, fear pounding in his chest.

The rogue winced in response then replied, "I'm not the ferals but…I'm still faster than a human or Forsaken. Stronger too. And…" He paused and stared again at the grave being dug.

"I still can't die. Not without being torn apart."

Hresden winced then said, "Saran…"

"Don't apologize," snapped Saran, his head whipping around to glare. "Don't you _dare_ apologize! That's not your place." Laughing darkly, he added, "And it's not any change really. I just look human now."

"It should be more than that," murmured Hresden.

"And Kalya should be alive," hissed Saran. "But things rarely work out as we want them."

"No, they never really do, do they?"

Both sighed and stared at the digging then asked, "What will you do now?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe try a bit of exploring on my own again; the healer's say it'll be at least a year before Kwaa is able to do such again."

Hresden frowned at that. He had known the ferals had certainly hurt Kwaaku but he hadn't known the extent was quite that bad. Then he smiled and asked, "Planning to see if you can sneak around in Alliance cities?"

"I am a rogue," replied Saran with a smirk. He then shook his head and replied, "Not much. I just…I want to see if I can find my mother. And my sister."

"Did Kalya have any family?"

"She never mentioned any but her father and he died defending Southshore."

"Ah." Hresden then asked, "What if you do find them?"

Saran looked hard at his friend then replied, "I can't stay with them. My face is still known to a few people so staying isn't an option. But to just pass through and see them again…I'd like that."

"And after?"

Hresden's question had strained undertones and Saran moved closer, clasping his friend's shoulder.

"My home," he said slowly, "is with the Horde now. Even as I am, it is. Some may hate me for being a human amongst them but I know the Alliance would never have me back."

"I know," murmured Hresden, his eyes focusing on the brand.

Saran smiled then turned back towards the diggers, as they seemed to have finished. Tears started flowing as several druids came forward with the casket that held Kalya's body…he had insisted she be buried, here in the place Kwaaku had mentioned she loved so much. Not placed on a pyre and burned as he had seen other deaths.

"I'll do something better with my life," hissed the rogue in a low, pained voice. "Something more than simply survive. She'd have wanted that. Maybe even be a spy again – Thrall doesn't have too many of those that can slip into Alliance territory easily."

"Dangerous work," intoned Hresden, his own eyes wet now.

"Maybe," said Saran. "But I have to do something."

He moved away from his friend then, walking towards the druids and their burden. Two stayed at the casket as he approached whilst the others stepped back and these drew the lid away. Slowly Saran leaned in and smiled as he brushed his hand across Kalya's cheek, wishing a glow would gutter forth in her eyes and she would smile at him, saying he was silly to worry.

But that wasn't going to happen.

He knew now that during those horrible days he had felt her presence without even realizing it. And when she was gone, it had left a gaping hole in him, a spot that hadn't been filled. The empty spot that left him something between Forsaken and those feral monsters; that left him with some modicum of humanity.

The empty spot that told him she really was gone.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. "Sorry I couldn't save you. I…I love you, Kalya." Leaning close, he kissed her, his tears falling onto her cold cheeks, then pulled away. The druids all bowed their heads, not meeting his eyes, all except one. A young Night Elf male stepped close to him, green hair far too bright for the occasion, and said softly in Common, "I'm sorry."

The words might have been hollow, said only in comfort, but Saran could hear the real sorrow in them. This Night Elf had known Kalya while she was here, he could feel it. And he knew the words were sincere.

"Thank you," he replied then walked back to Hresden, hearing the lid slide closed behind him. As he reached his friend, he turned to see the coffin slowly sliding into the earth.

Hresden's hand slid onto one shoulder as the druids raised their arms then he felt Caren's on his other. Roots sprang from the earth and as one pulled the dirt back into the grave, covering it over. Saran choked at the sight and leaned heavily against Caren, she and Hresden holding him upright as well as keeping him from completely breaking down.

He was not alone, he reminded himself as he leaned against them.

There was a stone placed to mark the grave, its surface carved with runes the druids claimed would protect it from those that might wish to harm the site.

And slowly they began to drift away, leaving only the three of them at that spot. Wiping his face with his bare hand, Saran straightened, saying softly, "We should go."

"You're sure?" questioned Hresden even as he fished in one of the pouches hanging from his belt.

"Yeah," replied Saran. He smiled sadly as he added, "She deserves some peace and quiet after all this."

Hresden smiled then said softly, "Yes. Yes, I suppose she does." He pulled a rune out of the pouch then and turned away, murmuring in Thalassian quickly as he held it up before letting it drop. The tiny piece of clay carved with a rune flared into flame as it fell then froze halfway to the ground before it roared into a portal that flickered at the edges with fire.

Saran turned to Caren then and asked, "You're not coming, are you?"

The druid shook her head and replied, "No, I am going to stay here for a little while, look after Kwaaku. But don't worry, I intend to see my son again soon."

Slowly he nodded, understanding somewhat. Much as she might've said to Callith that she didn't care, she did mourn every time she had to kill being or animal. And it would obvious this time would take longer for her to heal since, Scourge or not, she had held Callith whilst Hresden had severed his head. She had not just killed in defense, she had helped to kill in revenge and that shook Caren to her core.

"I'll give him your love," assured Saran.

"Thank you," said Caren with a smile. She then bent and hugged him tightly. "And you take care of yourself, my friend."

He smiled, nodding, then turned towards Hresden and the portal through which he could see Orgrimmar. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Time to face the world again."

"I'm with you every step," assured Hresden.

"Good," said Saran as he stepped into the portal, "I'm going to need your help getting through Orgrimmar without getting stabbed."


	24. Life Goes On

**Chapter 24**

"Every Forsaken is back to being themselves," intoned Sylvanas haughtily. "All thanks to you."

"All thanks to Hresden, actually," admitted Saran. "He's the one that cut his head off."

"The mage?" questioned the Banshee Queen. The High Elf arched his eyebrows at that and crossed his arms, the hilt of his sword visible fully now.

Hresden smirked as he stated, "I'm something of a jack of all trades really."

Sylvanas sniffed then asked, "What was he then?"

"A necromancer," replied Hresden, "armed with an item liberated from Quel'thalas after its fall by Kel'thuzad. His name was Callith Ristall and once he was a Quel'dorei like us."

"You killed him," stated Sylvanas. "And yet you sound mournful."

"He was my friend."

"I see…well, then, _Necronim_, you will come with me…"

Saran cocked his head to the side, saying, "No, I won't." Sylvanas scowled then took a step towards him, her power lashing out at him almost visibly, and Thrall, who had been listening from his chair in the room, rose.

"I warned you, Sylvanas!"

"Don't bother, Warchief," snarled Saran, instantly shaking off the Banshee Queen's power. "I don't fall under her jurisdiction anymore."

"You…!"

Thrall scowled and Sylvanas turned towards him, hissing, "I will not stand for this!"

"Guards," rumbled the Warchief, "kindly escort Lady Sylvanas to the zeppelin with the rest of her folk. They have a city to reclaim."

Two of the Kor'kron stepped forward at that but Sylvanas shook them off with a flick of her wrists, her glowing eyes fixed angrily on Thrall's face. "I will not forget this," she snarled.

"And I would warn you to kindly remember the delicate situation the Undercity hangs in right now," said Thrall warningly. "Now get out of my city."

The Banshee Queen sniffed then strode out of Grommash Hold, the two guards following in her wake. And Saran could feel her glare on his back with every step she took.

"Light save," breathed Hresden. "You didn't have to completely alienate yourself from the Undercity."

"I've always hated it anyway," spat Saran. He lifted his gaze to his friend's and added in a growl, "And she insulted Kalya on top of assaulting me. I won't forgive either."

A low cough brought their attentions back to the Warchief, who was standing waiting for the both of them. Hresden blinked then muttered, "Sorry, Warchief."

"No, no, don't apologize," said Thrall with a wave of his hand. "I've never quite seen anyone get under Sylvanas' skin like that."

"I seem to have a talent for it," stated Saran with a bitter smile. He then stepped forward, saying, "And if I may, Warchief, I have a proposal that might benefit us all."

Thrall cocked his head to the side then smiled and waved the two of them close as he moved back to his chair. Sitting down, he propped his elbows on the arms and folded his hands in front of him.

"Let's hear this proposal then."

Saran smiled then stepped forward, quickly laying out what he had mentioned to Hresden earlier. Of him becoming a spy for the Horde, the only one they had that could infiltrate Alliance cities. Even with his face still known, it would help them.

"My only requirement," added the rogue at the end, "is that I am allowed to search for my mother and sister. I never was able to find out if they were punished for what I did and I have to know."

"Done," said the Warchief. He then smiled and said, "Welcome then, my new spy. I must think on what to do with you first…perhaps a short trip to Theramore to test how well you can blend in."

"And to deliver a message to Lady Proudmoore?" asked Saran, knowing it had been harder for the two semi-allied leaders to communicate in the past few years.

Thrall smiled at that, "Indeed. Now go. I will call on you when I have need."

"Yes, Warchief."

The two bowed then slowly left the hold, neither speaking until they reached the outside. "So," finally intoned Hresden, "you really are going to be a spy."

"Its what I do best," replied Saran with a smile. He then tilted his head as he looked at the sky. "Besides…Kalya loved the Horde even if she knew she wasn't much accepted."

"She'd be proud."

"You think?"

"I do," replied Hresden. He then smiled and clapped his friend's shoulder, saying, "Now! Why don't we go find that rascal son of our dearest druid?"

"But of course," said Saran, knowing Taemmur would be sad to hear about Kalya. But the boy would understand and accept it just as the rest of them had. They all had to.

Walking along the Drag next to his friend, the rogue tilted his head back and smiled at the sky, breathing in the air of Orgrimmar deeply for the first time.

He had a new life entirely because of Kalya – in both body and mind. And there would be no more jumping from cliffs; no more trying to kill himself.

No, he would live and do something useful.

Because of her. _For_ her.

Even if she had never known it, she had saved him from becoming something he hadn't wanted to be. And he would be forever grateful for that.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**And, thusly, now _Child of the Horde_ may be continued. Hope you all enjoyed reading _Bones_. **  
**


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